


If You Feel Better

by Strawberry_Requiem



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Female My Unit | Byleth, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Masturbation, Mental Health Issues, Mentioned Hilda Valentine Goneril, Minor Annette Fantine Dominic/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Minor Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Dedue Molinaro, Minor Caspar von Bergliez/Hilda Valentine Goneril, Minor Dorothea Arnault/Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Minor Sylvain Jose Gautier/Mercedes von Martritz, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Temporary Character Death, Time Shenanigans, Vaginal Sex, because I'm a big soft baby who doesn't like sad things, dimi's saying yes so we'll see when we get there, minor caspar von bergliez, mom filled out adoption paperwork on all the kids so I didn't have to fight them, possible femdom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:48:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 41,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22456738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strawberry_Requiem/pseuds/Strawberry_Requiem
Summary: Post war, Dimitri and Byleth navigate the struggles of their new positions while coming to grips with whatever blossomed between them.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 52
Kudos: 483





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be posting any warnings for the chapters at the beginning, just in case anyone would like to avoid anything.
> 
> Warnings:  
> Masturbation

After the war, Garreg Mach had become a base of operations for Dimitri. He didn't want to return to Fhirdiad, not until a new Archbishop was named and the entire structure was up and running as an Academy once more. None of the others wished to leave until these things were achieved either, which, for the time being, made the monastery feel as it did over five years ago.

Byleth suspected that none of them wished to leave for fear of separation. If they could tell themselves that there was work to be done with rebuilding Garreg Mach, they could surely write home and tell their parents or advisors as much as well. She knew for a fact that Sylvain had done just that, for Margrave Gautier sent supplies and local craftspeople from his territories to help with the rebuilding process. 

Even so, they were all working round the clock. Anyone able-bodied enough did what they could to help. 

Despite the success with the rebuild, there was no indication of who would be the next Archbishop, and that was troubling. 

Some ideas were humored. Perhaps Seteth, suggested Linhardt during one of their group meetings about the rebuild. But, that idea was quickly shut down. Seteth was content in his position as an instructor and aid to the Archbishop. He said as much with a pointed gaze at Byleth, which she tried to avoid to the best of her ability.

There was some hemming and hawing over it some more until Dimitri cleared his throat and said: "I think Byleth should be the next Archbishop."

The room went into a frenzy. 

Not in anger, but because the King of Faerghus had volunteered her name for selection. His word was not the law in this situation, this was evident. Still, his word carried a considerable amount of weight. And if he thought it was a good idea, well, it had to be considered. 

"If you don't mind my asking, Your Majesty," Felix started, his voice containing its usual edge, "but what is your reasoning behind this?"

"Byleth led my armies when I was unable. She kept Garreg Mach running, helped gain favor with Alliance and Kingdom nobles who had allied themselves with the Empire. She--she gave the instruction we needed to succeed." Dimitri tried to keep his tone even, but occasionally, over certain words, there was an unmistakable hint of passion that slipped out.

Byleth couldn't look at him when he spoke. She could feel his eye on her, feel that trained gaze looking for _something_ in her the way he looked for weakness in an enemy's armor. The looks he gave her became all too familiar in recent weeks. And they were welcome when they were alone, when his hand would brush against hers and his face would color red from the contact. But neither of them needed that when they had a room of people who could witness such displays. 

"I agree with His Majesty."

Lady Rhea's presence had gone previously unnoticed in the room until she spoke. She was frail and weak, walking slowly to an unoccupied chair. Seteth leaped to his feet and offered her his arm for stability, but she refused the help. A hush fell over the room while everyone watched her find her chair and make herself comfortable. 

"His points are all valid ones," she continued, garnering a slight tug at the corners of Dimitri's mouth, "I believe she may have been chosen by the Goddess to lead Fodlan to a bright future."

No one dared argue with Rhea. Byleth was unsure if it was because everyone agreed with the decision now that Rhea had, or because there was no use arguing with a woman who could turn into a fucking dragon. 

More talk. Ignatz wanted permission to do some fresco paintings in the rebuilt cathedral once it was finished, and he knew some glass smiths who might want to work on the new stained glass windows. That decision was left to Byleth, who could only muster a queasy "sure" in response.

When the meeting let up, Rhea asked Byleth to meet her in her chambers. She chose to give her some time to situate herself properly. 

While she made her way out of the meeting, Sylvain stopped her on her way down to the main floor of the monastery. He wore his usual grin, the sort that made Byleth suspect he either had juicy gossip or a lewd comment to make.

"So what was with that look Dimitri was giving you, Professor?"

"What look?" She pretended like she didn't know what he was talking about.

"Don't play coy. He was somewhere between picking out drapes for your future child's nursery and mentally plowing you so hard you wouldn't be able to walk right for a week." Sylvain, luckily, had enough tact to wait until there was no one around to hear him, thank the Goddess. 

"You don't say." Byleth hummed dryly. 

"Come on, you had to have noticed! Even five years ago when you were our professor. It was all 'yes, Professor', 'anything for you, Professor'. You had him wrapped around your little finger then and you still do now. Except now he's a grown man and isn't content with polishing his _lance_ to thoughts of you."

"I really didn't need an image of Dimitri masturbating in my head when I need to go meet with Rhea shortly. Thanks for that, Sylvain."

"No problem" he winked, "maybe then you two will finally fuck and end all of our suffering."

By that time, it was probably time enough to head to Rhea's chambers. Byleth's pace was leisurely, buying her some time before she had to face the Archbishop. 

Despite her trying to push the thoughts from her mind, she found herself drifting to images of Dimitri. Dimitri with his flaxen hair wild around his face, hand trailing down his bare, sweat-slicked chest. Trailing downwards, down onto his stomach, into the waistband of his pants as he mouthed a word.

_Byleth._

"Byleth."

Lady Rhea was standing before her, arms folded into each other and a gentle smile on her face. 

She pushed the last lingering thoughts of Dimitri from her mind, masking the budding lust with her usual blank expression.

"You wanted to speak with me, Lady Rhea?" 

"Yes." She motioned for Byleth to follow her to an outdoor terrace off her chambers. The lilypads in the ponds swayed gently in the warm Horsebow Moon breeze. "Do you know why I volunteered your name for next Archbishop?"

"Because Sothis?" Byleth said without a second thought.

"Yes. She lives in you. She gave you the power to guide His Majesty and his forces to victory. To guide his hand in unifying Fodlan. She continues to lend you her power even now."

"So…because the Goddess is part of me."

"Yes." Rhea walked over to the balustrade. 

Byleth couldn't see what she was looking at from her vantage point, but it didn't matter. Her palms were sweaty from nerves; she rubbed them on her jacket to combat the slickness. 

"I think you and His Majesty can lead Fodlan peacefully with you at the head of the Church of Seiros and him as the King."

She took a few steps towards the balustrade. "So you're proposing a partnership, so to speak, of the church and state."

"It is not my place to say anymore. These are the sort of plans you would be better to discuss with His Majesty."

Byleth couldn't wrap her mind around the concept. She didn't think she was particularly devout or suited for the role, but then again, when you were, for all intents and purposes, the Goddess, it really didn't matter. Still, she knew there were preparations to make, things for her to learn. The idea made her head spin. 

"I'm honored that I would even be considered for this position, but I have to ask, is the Archbishop sworn to chastity and celibacy? Because I'm not a virgin, and I don't know if I can do the celibacy thing on a permanent basis."

Rhea gave a rare laugh. It was weak with fatigue; Byleth could tell that their discussion was coming to an end. "The Archbishop, nor any of the church's practitioners, are sworn to such vows. But, I grow weary and need to lie down. We will discuss the preparations for your coronation later."

\--

_Dimitri writhes in bed, face etched in ecstasy. His pants are around his muscled thighs. With his left hand, he runs courses on his chest and stomach, stopping to touch one of his nipples, to feel the bruised spots along his neck and chest. While his left hand is occupied, he strokes his needy cock with his right. It's flushed with blood, engorged with need as he continues to stroke. And stroke. And stroke._

_"Byleth."_

_Her name comes out half pleading, half angry growl. He wants her to touch him. To feel how bad he wants her. Needs her. His eye, half-lidded and teeming with unbidden lust, is trained on her. She's watching, he knows she's watching and he's getting off on it._

"Dammit, Sylvain." Byleth cursed, finding herself snapped from the fantasy. While the images of Dimitri were chased from her head, she still found her body responsive to it. "This is the last thing I need."

When she got her bearings, she realized she was in the dining hall, and just in time for dinner service. She was hungry from having skipped lunch and decided it was probably best to eat. Byleth took her meal to her room so she could be alone with her thoughts. 

She sat at her writing desk, picking at the meal. As soon as she sat down with it, she felt less hungry than before and struggled to eat. Byleth didn't know if she was the best candidate for Archbishop. If it was really such a good idea to entrust such a responsibility to her. Sure, Sothis lived _in_ her, but it didn't make her more experienced or capable in any capacity. And of course, she knew she had a lot to learn. 

And, as much as she didn't want to admit it to herself, she thought Rhea was keeping secrets from her. 

Byleth tried to finish the meal, but her stomach had gone up in knots and made her feel nauseous, so she left it, abandoned, on the desk. Perhaps later she could try again. But for now, she laid down in bed.

Sleep didn't come, not that she was trying, but her mind filled with all sorts of thoughts. About her budding responsibilities. The war. The unification of Fodlan. Watching her students die over, and over, and over, and her racing to rewrite time so that she could save them. Edelgard's face moments before she died. Goddess, she saw that face more often than not. 

And, Dimitri. 

Sylvain's words from earlier rang through her head. _Now he's a grown man_. He said it like she hadn't noticed. Like she hadn't noticed how tall he had gotten, how broad his shoulders were. The look that crossed his face when he was working over a particularly mentally laborious plan. Or how the muscles of his back rippled when he was sparring Felix.

Her hand drifted into her waistband. Into her underwear. She found her clitoris and began stroking it with the pad of her index finger. 

Dimitri. Dimitri slick with sweat from a hard training session. Dimitri with a hungry look in his eye that bordered on ravenous. Dimitri, peeling the clothes off his body. His hands had gotten so big in these five years. Was that the only thing that got _big_? 

_Dimitri. Dimitri. Dimitri. Dim-_

Byleth rode her orgasm straight through to a shameful feeling. Fantasizing about other people always made her feel dirty in a sense. It was fine when it was a faceless figure or a concept of someone. But having it be a real person she knew? Goddess, having it be the King of Faerghus? 

She rested on her pillow in the afterglow, resolved to get up and change her underwear, but not enough to do it at that moment. 

\--

The night went on. Byleth eventually changed her underwear and got to tidying her room. She knew, when Rhea finally stepped down as Archbishop, she would be moving into her chambers. So, it was best to keep things clean until then. She ate a little more, but it was still a far cry from finishing off the meal. Then, she slept. Or, at least tried to. It had been so difficult these days to reliably fall and stay asleep. She tried, oh goddess, did she try. But, she always seemed to wake up from a nightmare she didn't remember in a cold sweat. Or, when she laid her head on the pillow and the faces of the dead came to remind her of what transpired, she knew that she wouldn't even make it so far as nightmares.

This night was one of those where she didn't even get to sleep. She laid in bed, tossing and turning until she was too restless to stay in bed and needed to get up. So, she did.

Byleth wandered the grounds of the monastery. If one good thing came of the insomnia, it was getting to experience it when everyone else was asleep. Only a few guards did their patrols at this hour, so she saw scant another soul as she made her way through the gardens, appreciating the night-blooming flowers in a way that few others did. 

Her ambling led her to the cathedral, like it always did. She knew she had Sothis within her. Sothis who was part of her and had always been part of her. But, it felt like her prayers could be heard better when she stood in the cathedral.

Repairs were going well, she noted. All of the rubble that had filled the cathedral during the war had been cleared away, making it feel almost empty in a sense. Some scaffolding had been erected in the back, where the whole wall had been missing this last year, and it looked like the stonemasons had already begun work on the replacement. 

A figure stood, looking out at the ruined wall in contemplation. Byleth recognized him immediately, though it was hard to mistake the royal blue cloak and shaggy fur stole as anyone other than Dimitri. He hadn't noticed her, and for a moment, she considered leaving him alone to his thoughts. 

"Couldn't sleep either, Professor?"

Dimitri looked over his shoulder at her. He smiled weakly.

"Did you develop future sight since we saw each other last?"

"I know your footsteps," Dimitri explained, "heard you come through here enough to recognize the sound."

Byleth approached him, not bothering to leave him alone any longer now that he was interested in conversation. "So I'm that predictable, then?"

"We spent many sleepless nights in this cathedral together." Dimitri smiled again, a sad sort of smile that she knew all too well. He was praying for the dead, praying to have his own soul absolved of his sins. 

She approached him, standing shoulder to shoulder with him, looking out through the hole in the cathedral. 

"How did your meeting with Lady Rhea go?" 

"She's named me the next Archbishop. At least unofficially. I'm sure she'll make an official announcement later."

Dimitri nodded. "I think you would be a good choice."

Byleth didn't say anything initially. She chewed on the inside of her cheek, trying to find the right words to say to him. 

"Why did you suggest me?"

Dimitri said nothing initially. He pursed his lips tightly, staring beyond Byleth. "I think you would be a good Archbishop. I have faith that you will bring great changes in the church."

"Is that all?"

Silence again. 

"I trust you, Professor. You took my hand and guided me out of the darkness. Without you, I would be a husk of a man, killing in the name of the ghosts of the dead. I know that you can rebuild the Church of Seiros and guide it out of the darkness as you have done for me."

"That's a lovely sentiment, Dimitri, I'm just afraid that I'm going to inevitably fuck something up."

Dimitri laughed, the sort of laugh that rocked his whole body. "We all have doubts about our capabilities from time to time."

Byleth afforded him a rare smile. "My, my. Haven't you become the wise man? Shouldn’t I be imparting wisdom on you?" 

"I suppose it comes with getting older." Snorted Dimitri, looking down at his feet momentarily. "Professor?"

"Mm?"

"--Nevermind. We can talk about it another time."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say thank you from the bottom of my heart for all the love this has gotten so far! I really appreciate all of you who read chapter one and enjoyed it!
> 
> As a warning, I am going to update the tags of this fic with some things I didn't foresee being part of it until I got to writing and, oops, there it was. I apologize for not doing that earlier.
> 
> No warnings for this chapter (it's pretty clean).

Training began almost immediately.

The morning following Rhea's decision to make Byleth the next Archbishop, she was summoned into Seteth's office. After breakfast, she met with him, finding his stony facade to be a touch unpleasant so early. He wasn't a cruel man, especially in recent months, just a bit unnerving with his cool green eyes and icy stare. 

"Lady Rhea asked me to oversee your education in becoming the next Archbishop." He said, standing in front of his desk, with Byleth lingering in the doorway. 

"Oversee my education?"

"Yes, You will need to know the proper histories. The various canticles and hymns. The Church protocol. Forgive my bluntness, but I was under the impression that Jeralt was not one for religious tutelage." He paused, giving her a chance to refute him if necessary.

"He was not."

Seteth hummed in understanding. "That is no matter. We will do all we can to teach you what you need prior to your coronation. And as with Lady Rhea, I will be serving as your right hand in all matters."

"Have we decided on a date yet?"

"Depending on how Lady Rhea's health fares, we are thinking during the Wyvern Moon sometime. Though if she does not feel up to it, we may push that up to the end of this month."

"So, you're giving me, at the most, a month and a half to learn what is required of me." Her tone, while normally even, lacked that quality at that moment. 

Seteth noticed the bite in her words, though he did not acknowledge them. "You do not need to know everything by your coronation. I will still be here to aid in your education, as will the monks and priests."

Byleth was not happy, but she also saw no point in arguing with Seteth about this. As easy as it would have been to take it out on him, he was merely doing his job, a job that was proving exhausting for them both, she wagered. He didn’t deserve her ire when he was just as stressed over this as her.

After their talk, Seteth wrote her a list of books he felt she should look into that he was positive were in the library, and they would pick lessons up formally in his office after lunch. So, Byleth checked three of the books out and brought them to her room for some reading.

Byleth found the books a difficult read, to say the least. 

She had never been one for religion, no less the dry sort about which saint did what and in what year. Part of Byleth expected Seteth to come into her room at any moment and insist that there was going to be a test, so she better have it all memorized. As much as she knew better, she shrank in her chair and flipped to the next page.

It continued like that until lunch. She ate with Ingrid and Dorothea that afternoon. Dorothea was making eyes at Ingrid the entire time, and didn't seem to care who saw. Byleth certainly noticed, and she found it cute in a way. They had grown rather close during the war, but whatever discretion Dorothea normally practiced had been abandoned after the victory.

After lunch, she went to retrieve her books from her room and meet Seteth in the library for instruction. 

Seteth wasn't there when Byleth arrived. The librarian did have a message for her however. That she was to study in the library and as soon as he had a free moment, he would join her for instruction. Part of Byleth was happy about this; she preferred to work alone, as bored as she was with the reading material. 

Most of the tables were occupied with several monks doing repairs on the books that were ruined during the war, but were still salvageable enough. As such, the faint smell of binding glue filled her nostrils as she looked for somewhere to sit.

The only table with available work space for her was also occupied, but by Dimitri. He had several books open in front of him, which he cycled between at a leisurely pace. She couldn't tell what they were about, but she could only figure it had to do with his own impending coronation. 

"Who sent you here to do school work?" She asked coolly, setting her stack of books down to emphasize the fact that they shared a fate.

"Pardon? Oh...Gilbert and I discussed it this morning, and we felt it would be best if I brushed up on my Fodlan history a bit. You?"

"Coronation homework." She flipped one of the books open randomly. "Seteth really felt it was necessary to give me homework on my birthday."

"That's right, it is your birthday, isn't it?" Dimitri commented. "Happy Birthday, Byleth."

It was the first time she recalled him using her name as opposed to  _ Professor _ . The sound of it caused her stomach to leap into her throat. She couldn't figure out why.

"Thank you, Dimitri." 

He returned to his reading, and she to hers, but an overwhelming restlessness overtook her. She wanted to go and do something, not be trapped in the library. Byleth glanced around. Still no Seteth. She got through another page, and he still was nowhere to be found. But, Dimitri  _ was _ there, and she could definitely see herself killing a few hours with him.

"Do you want to go do something with me?" Byleth's question cut the silence between them. She didn't look at him directly, but she could still see that he was hesitating with flipping the page of the current book he had in front of him.

"Didn't Seteth ask you to read these books?" There was a hint of something in his question, something like curiosity, maybe. Was he interested? Or was he just making conversation to humor her?

"You've never skipped class? Ever? Besides, you're the King of Faerghus and I'm next in line to be the Archbishop. Who is going to stop us if we go for a ride?"

That was all it took. 

* * *

The prospect of a ride was enough for Dimitri to set his books aside for the afternoon and steal away for a few hours. Prior to heading to the stables, he stopped by his room for something, Byleth didn't press for what. They chose their horses. A massive Friesian for Dimitri with an even temperament, and Palomino for Byleth. 

They rode for what felt like close to an hour, scarcely conversing, before Dimitri thought it was probably best to water the horses at a pond they had come across and take a rest themselves. Byleth was grateful for that. She felt quite fatigued by the ride, though wished to not speak of it since he still appeared to have enough energy to continue. 

Dimitri busied himself with hitching the horses to a nearby tree while Byleth strayed away towards some of the brush. She spotted some wild berries and some apples and decided to pick them for a quick snack to hopefully help her tiredness so that she could make it back to Garreg Mach without much issue. 

She brought the fruits to Dimitri, who was sitting in a sunny patch of grass near the bank of the pond at that point. He took the berries and apples from her while she struggled with removing her jacket, which she laid out on the ground. 

"I didn't know you knew how to forage." Dimitri commented, placing the fruits on the jacket once she sat down.

"Jeralt showed me a little when I was a child. Mostly what to avoid and to not eat anything you didn't recognize." She glanced down at the berries. "I don't think he knew much beyond that himself, in hindsight."

"What did he teach you, if you don't mind my asking?"

"We did a lot of fishing in his downtime, so I can name most regional types. And clean and debone a fish in one minute flat. What about you? What was your father like?"

Dimitri faltered. He picked at a blade of grass, perhaps trying to find the words. Or, chasing away the ghosts of the past that still spoke to him.

"If you don't want to talk about it--"

"--No, it's fine. I was only trying to remember what sort of man my father was, but found that I couldn't remember his face quite right, couldn't remember his voice. Is it like that for you, with Jeralt?"

"I suppose it is. The more time that passes, the more I lose something of him. I sometimes wonder if my memories of him will be nothing more than fabrications after a point."

"I worry about that as well."

A pregnant silence befell them. Byleth kept her eyes on the pond, but she could feel Dimitri's gaze on her. Part of her wanted to turn, to catch his eye. To see what was hidden there. Part of her was afraid of finding out. 

"Would you like any of these berries or apples?" She asked, gesturing toward them in an effort to end the awkwardness. 

"Thank you, but I'm not hungry."

Byleth picked up one of the berries and held it to her nose. It smelled so fresh and inviting; her mouth began watering at the prospect of biting into it. 

"Smell." She held it for him to sniff.

Dimitri laughed awkwardly, but humored her anyway. "Those smell lovely. What do they taste like?"

He was looking right at her, the question hanging in the air between them. Byleth brought the berry to her lips and gave it a bite. His gaze was fixed on her, more specifically, her mouth. Some of the juice from the berry dribbled down her lips and chin, eventually making a soft  _ plop _ on her chest. He followed it the whole way down, only averting his gaze when he realized she had noticed. 

_ Perhaps Sylvain was right about Dimitri. _

Byleth chased the thoughts from her mind and finished the berry. "It's sweet. A little tart, but fresh. It would be good in one of Mercedes' tarts."

"I wish I could taste Mercedes' sweets. They all smell so nice when they're fresh from the oven."

Byleth shuffled. "I could always tell you what they taste like." There was something odd in suggesting that. Perhaps it was in the fact that Dimitri had been staring luridly at her chest a moment prior, or in the fact that he was still flushed all the way down to the neck from being caught. 

He cleared his throat and fixed his sight on the pond. "I would like that."

She finished the berries. Without Dimitri's trained eye on her this time. Even so, she was enjoying this time away, though she couldn't figure if it was the break from work or his company that made her feel this way.

Byleth fed the apples to the horses, and then they made their way back to the monastery. 

It was nearly dark when they got their horses back to the stables. Dimitri lingered a little in the stables, brushing his Friesian's mane. He was a different man with the horses. While he always seemed so oblivious of his strength and was a prolific breaker of things, there was a gentle tenderness in the way he handled the horses. The way his hands smoothed over their flanks and worked the knots out of their manes.

_ I wonder if he would be that gentle with me. _

Byleth's face colored at the thought, but luckily for her, he wasn't paying her much attention. 

"I'm going to go now. Thank you for spending the day with me."

Before she got two steps from the stables, Dimitri was calling for her. She could see him fishing something out of his saddle bag as he did so. 

"Just another moment of your time, please."

Dimitri came out of the stables, clutching what looked to be a poleyn in his hands. It looked well constructed, but Byleth did not understand why he had brought a knee guard on their ride. "I hadn't forgotten it was your birthday."

It was a finely crafted poleyn, nice materials, expert stitching on the leather straps. She did, however, notice the Blue Lion etched into the metal. It worked well with the rest of the design, but she was curious about why he gave her something with the coat of arms on it when she was no longer the Professor of Blue Lion House.

"The Blue Lion, that's the Blaiddyd coat of arms, yes?"

"Yes. I thought, since you don't have your own coat of arms, you could share mine." Dimitri blinked, not registering what he had said until Byleth's usually stony face broke into a look of surprise. "I should...I should probably go speak with Gilbert now. There's a lot of work we still need to do here before I can return to Fhirdiad."

* * *

Byleth was on her way to the library to retrieve her books when she ran into Seteth. 

He met her with his usual cool look, but she could tell, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was disappointed in her.

"You were supposed to meet me for instruction after lunch."

"You were late, so I went riding with Dimitri."

Seteth folded his arms over his chest. "You were concerned with only having a month to prepare for your coronation, and you decided to shirk on your responsibilities to go riding with His Majesty?"

"I'll stay up tonight and get the reading done." No arguments, no anger, just a fact. She was exhausted from the ride, but knew that her insomnia would prevent any sleep she had wanted to get. 

He massaged the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "Okay. We will meet tomorrow morning in my office for instruction. Goodnight, Byleth."

Byleth returned to the library and retrieved her books. She locked herself in Jeralt's old office and began working through the reading.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for all the love all of you have been showing this story! I appreciate it so much!
> 
> This chapter is rather short, and there's no Dimitri or sexy things, but there is a hint at Dorothea x Ingrid, so I hope you enjoy!

Fhirdiad needed her king, and as much as Dimitri may have wanted to stay in Garreg Mach and help with the repairs to the monastery, he was being summoned. The issue of assigning his advisors, treasurers, and a commander to lead his troops, it all still needed to be done. Likewise, he still needed to make the preparations for his own coronation. 

There was some consideration paid to his coronation being held at the monastery, mostly for brevity. They could make a celebration of a week during the Wyvern Moon and hold both coronations. It would certainly be easier. 

But no, it had to be held in Fhirdiad. That was tradition. It was also tradition to have the Archbishop present, so it was decided that his official coronation would be held off until after Byleth's, and hers would be moved up by two weeks to accommodate his and the travel time it would take for her to make it to the capital. 

He had been gone several weeks by then, and Byleth was acutely aware of his absence. His presence in her life seemed to have grown in importance as of late, and his absence left her disquieted.

He had been accompanied by Gilbert, Dedue, and Sylvain, as well as a small convoy of soldiers for their protection. It was a safe enough journey, one that she needn't worry over, but she still found her stomach in knots and was tempted to write in order to check that they made it safely. 

Seteth hadn't left her much time to do so, however. With her coronation being moved up, she needed to double down on their lessons. He spent nearly every waking moment with her when he wasn't tending to Rhea. Sometimes, he employed Mercedes' and Annette's help with her education, which mostly came in the form of them taking her to choir practice and making sure she knew the hymns. Byleth felt there was little need for her to learn these things, but Seteth would not hear it.

When she wasn't studying, there were other preparations to be made. She needed proper raiments for her new position. Hilda knew some dressmakers who would be eager to have the Archbishop wearing their designs and asked to bring some of them into the monastery to draft some designs and to take Byleth's measurements. 

She was going over fabric swatches with Byleth one afternoon while Seteth took Rhea her lunch and met for a private conversation about something that she didn't press him on. 

Hilda held up a swatch of something cream-colored and silky. She grabbed another swatch from the table between them, this time a blue fabric, careful not to knock over the teapot. "Is it tradition for the Archbishop to wear mostly blues and whites? They'll really complement your green hair and eyes, but I've never seen Lady Rhea wear anything else. It's a shame because she would look radiant in a blush-colored gown, or maybe a champagne."

Rhea.

Jeralt's diary had been slipped in with her books all week. When Seteth wasn't breathing down her neck about her studies, she was poring over it, hoping to find a hint of something in there that could help her figure Rhea out. They weren't particularly close, so conversations between them were few and far between. Sometimes, she felt like Rhea didn't see her at all. Like she was speaking to someone behind Byleth at all times. These weren't concerns she felt comfortable enough bringing to Rhea herself for fear of receiving an answer she didn't want to find. So, she read Jeralt's diary over and over again.

Byleth pushed the stack of books further under her chair with the heel of her foot and drank her tea.

* * *

Hilda eventually left, insisting that she would tell the dressmakers what fabrics they settled on when she had a free moment (which they both knew meant she would be making Caspar do it). By the time Byleth got the tea cleared away, Seteth was returning to continue their studies. 

Good. She had some questions for him.

They were in the old Golden Deer classroom, with Seteth at the lectern, writing things on the board that he felt necessary. Mostly dates and names that Byleth recognized, but could not attribute any particular significance to. He had her back to her, writing something down that he was copying from a book when she addressed him. 

"Seteth, does Rhea see me as a person?"

He stopped writing. 

"Why do you ask that?"

Byleth chewed the inside of her cheek, trying to find the right way to phrase the next part of her question. "I don't know. I get this impression that she’s never talking to me, like I’m someone not myself to her."

Seteth was looking at her now. The careful stoic look he normally wore was replaced with soft concern. He closed his book and set it on the lectern, then made his way to the desk Byleth sat at. "I must admit, this sounds like a conversation better suited for you and her, but I can try my best to ease your mind a little."

"I appreciate that."

"I will be your right hand when the time comes, it is my responsibility."

He rounded the desk and sat next to her, his expression now turned to his typical one. Byleth could see that there was tension there, however, an unease that he tried to mask to the best of his ability. "I told you that your mother was a creation of hers, yes?"

"Yes." 

_ And she sees me as a fake person because of this. _

"You know, Seteth, I think I was just in my head about this. I can get back to lessons." Byleth gave him her more convincing voice and expression. He seemed to have believed her or wasn't keen on arguing at the moment. 

* * *

After lessons, Byleth went down to the stables with Ingrid. A filly had been born a couple of weeks ago, and she wanted to see it. They chatted about the rebuild and plans for the future on their way, though Byleth wasn't as invested as she should have been. 

Ingrid happily climbed in the stable with the horse master, eagerly caring for the foal as the mother watched on and occasionally whinnied and snorted. 

Byleth was disinterested in the horse at the moment, though she feigned happiness whenever Ingrid would look over to her. She didn't need to have her fun spoiled by Byleth's sour mood. 

She was lost in her thoughts when she overheard a conversation a nearby guard was having.

"Oh, my apologies, Lord Riegan, I did not recognize you."

Claude was already on his way over when Byleth turned to see what the commotion was. He looked well, given the circumstances around the last time they had seen each other. But, she expected no less of Claude; he was the sort to hold himself to the expectations others had of him. And in this case, it was bouncing back quickly after war.

"Good to see you, Teach. Or, should I say Archbishop?"

"My coronation isn't for another two weeks," she paused a beat, "it's good to see you too, Claude."

He craned his head into the stables, spotting Ingrid with the horses. "Hey, I'm going to steal her away for a while, is that okay?" Claude gestured at Byleth.

Ingrid waved her arm as affirmation.

They walked for a while, mostly silent. Claude would comment on things, how nicely the repairs to the monastery were coming, given the state he heard it was in during the war. Byleth didn't have much to respond with, but that didn't seem to bother Claude much. It was the companionship that mattered.

Eventually, they settled down in Byleth's room. Claude sat at the desk, the chair turned around so he could see her while she sat on the bed. 

"What brings you to Garreg Mach these days?" she asked, pouring a cup of tea. Claude rose to accept it. 

"Your coronation, naturally. I wouldn't miss it."

"Really?" Her tone was flat.

"Yes. Well, and to check in on everything. I wanted to see how Dimitri was doing, but the guards at the gate said he was in Fhirdiad."

"He is." Byleth sipped at her own tea. "He should be returning soon for my coronation, though."

Claude nodded. He held the teacup, though he did not drink. For a time, he held it, making like he was going to drink it, but after several prolonged moments of switching it between his hands, he set it down on the desk. 

"Good. I know I turned the Alliance over to Dimitri during the war, but I wanted to make sure everything was going well."

"You trust him, but you want to make sure everything is going well." A bit of the old professor slipped out unconsciously.

"Yeah."

"He has been relying on me less for guidance on what to do these days, so I admittedly know very little, but I trust him to make the right judgment. And I also trust him to ask for help if he feels himself heading down that dark path again."

After some talk about Claude’s travels and a realization that his tea had gone cold, he showed himself out. Seteth had asked some of the staff around the monastery to ready his old room for his visit, and he wanted to see how it was going.

Once he was gone, Byleth took their full teacups and brought them outside to dump them out in the grass. Tomorrow, she would wash them properly; tonight, she wouldn’t worry too much. While she was bringing out the teapot to empty it, Felix walked past, giving her a strange look as he did. Something compelled him to turn back around and linger in her doorway a little.

“Professor, I was wondering if you wanted to spar with me tomorrow,” he asked, looking around her sparse room, “with the Boar and Sylvain gone, I’ve no one but Ingrid to train with, but she’s been spending all her time with Dorothea lately.”

“They make a rather sweet couple,” Byleth stated absently, placing her teacups on the appropriate shelf. 

Felix shifted. “Will you train with me or not?”

“If Seteth permits me a break in my Archbishop preparations, yes.”

He nodded in affirmation, eyes fixed on her desk for some reason. “What is that?” 

Felix gestured for the poleyn. Not giving her a chance to answer, he stepped into the room and inspected it more closely, turning it over in his hands and running his fingers along the etching. “Another one of Dimitri’s gifts?” He snorted.

“My birthday present from him.”

The poleyn was placed back in its old spot. “Knowing him, this has some convoluted meaning to it. I’ll see you in the morning, Professor.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're dealing a bit in Dimitri's mental health and some temporary character death this chapter. It goes to some dark places, so I felt it necessary to mention it in case these are potentially harmful things for some readers. 
> 
> You can find me on Twitter as @queenofthisdick.
> 
> As always, thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading.

They brought Dimitri to one of the first floor student bedrooms to treat his wounds.

Mercedes had wanted to use the infirmary, hoping there would still be some medical supplies on hand to treat his wounds. They didn't know how long he had been like this, living in the streets, bruised and broken almost beyond recognition, but she doubted if magic would do the job completely. He looked so emaciated, so unhealthy; she only wanted to have the best they could find to treat him. Much to their disappointment, the infirmary was in disrepair.

So Raphael's old room would have to do.

He fought Mercedes and Byleth when they tried to strip him of his armor. He needed it, he insisted. Needed it in case more of the rats came back. Byleth managed to talk him into taking it off so they could assess his wounds. They needed to see how severe they were; he was hurt and he wouldn't be able to fight if his wounds weren't treated.

Dimitri pulled away when Mercedes passed the needle through his skin in an attempt to close a deep laceration on his side. She sent Byleth to see if the greenhouse had any soldier's woundwort. Anything to grind into a paste to offer him some relief.

She cried for him the whole way there.

* * *

Dimitri hadn't left the cathedral in three days. 

His presence troubled Felix.  _ Please, for Goddess's sake do something about the boar. I can't stand to see him like this.  _

Had he eaten recently? Had he slept? He was so thin, so gaunt. There were dark circles around his eyes and his cheeks were so sunken in. Felix didn't know those answers. It didn't matter. All he did was pace, and talk to his dead father, and fucking snap at anyone who got too close. That's all he ever did lately, talk to the ghosts of the dead and accused anyone who cared of attempting to betray him.

Byleth brought him something to eat.

Dimitri refused it. 

She sat on one of the pews, waiting. Waiting. Dimitri turned on her, demanded an explanation. If she wasn't going to help him get his vengeance, she was better off leaving the Kingdom Army.

But she sat. And she waited.

And by sunset, he finally ate a little. 

* * *

On one of Byleth's insomnia fueled strolls, she saw him, shivering cold and on the stone floor of the cathedral. Why didn't he go back to his room, where it was warm and he had a bed? Where he didn't have to endure the elements through a broken wall. 

He refused her offer to walk back to his room together. Refused her offer to walk back to  _ any _ warm room. 

But he was cold, oh so cold. And trembling, wiith nothing but his furs and cape to warm him.

She returned to her room and grabbed her blanket and a spare then spent the night beside him.

Dimitri had been gone when she woke up at dawn, having curled up on one of the pews sometime before that.

The blanket she loaned him was neatly folded on her bed when she returned to her room the next morning.

* * *

They cried together in the rain. 

For Rodrigue, for everyone else they lost. For themselves. Dimitri cried more. Openly. His shoulders shook and he slumped into Byleth's chest, wanting nothing more than to be cradled and told that he was worthy of redemption, as much as he insisted that he didn’t deserve it. 

And he cried. 

Cried when she promised him that she would stand by his side while he fought the darkness in him. Cried when she told him that he was not too far broken to be repaired. Cried when she told him that his past did not define his future.

In the morning, when the sun came out and all that was left of the night's rain was puddles, he had composed himself. Asked for everyone's forgiveness and vowed to work hard in order to be worthy of their support. To be the man, no, King, Rodrigue knew he was capable of being. 

* * *

Byleth shared a meal with Dimitri in the war room. He rarely ate with others, even now when he was recovering. Less from abstinence, but because he was so consumed with the work he had abandoned when he was at his lowest that he would overcompensate and forget to head down to the Dining Hall. Someone usually brought him up something. Gilbert, or one of the monks, typically. 

Byleth remembered while he pored over tactical maps and brought them both up something. She even managed to convince him to take a break. 

They talked. Talk of the past and talk of the future. Talk of the time Annette's screaming could be heard all throughout the monastery because Felix was listening to her sing and she didn't want him there. They seemed rather fond of each other these days, he observed curiously.

* * *

Dimitri had started to put weight back on. He was eating regularly again, back on his training regimen too. He looked healthier. Happier. There were times when the darkness came back, when he would sit in the cathedral, morose and angry about the dead. But the good days outweighed those. 

He had asked Byleth to spar him that day. Felix was a fine partner, but he was growing too used to his movements. Wanted someone he could predict with less regularity. Besides, Felix had agreed to help Annette with library duty, and Sylvain was baking with Mercedes. Ingrid was nowhere to be found, probably with Dorothea.

Dimitri's stance was less bold than it had been a couple months ago. As careful as he was, they were still at odds. Her parrying his attacks expertly and him leaping out of the way of her jabs. It was more than training, it was a dance where they had to anticipate each other and make split second decisions.

He was mindful of his blind spot, watched Byleth's feet. Her sword arm. Her face.

_ Her- _

Her distraction gave him a window of opportunity. Dimitri knocked the training sword from her hand. Several sweeping attacks drew her backwards, back to avoid them and look for an opportunity to grab her sword. Back, back more. She was able to kick her sword back up into her non dominant hand, but Dimitri was advancing quickly and she was all but trapped between him and a stone pillar.

He brought the shaft of his lance down into a choking maneuver. She barely had time to block it with the dull edge of her sword. But he was bigger than her, so despite her block, he still managed to pin her hard against the pillar, the shaft of the lance pressed firmly into the swell of her chest. 

Their bodies molded into each other. Dimitri was all hard muscle. And warm. Goddess, was he warm. He smelled of sweat and tanned leather and something heady and musky that she couldn't place. That was the first time she noticed him look at her like that, hungry for something that was on the tip of her tongue, but she was too afraid to say. 

After sparring, Byleth returned to her room to masturbate.

* * *

They celebrated in the palace at Fhirdiad. 

It wasn't an official coronation; that would come after the war; he wanted the Archbishop to perform the rites. But the alcohol flowed, and the citizens held parties in the streets for the return for their true King. 

Byleth was not one for parties. She loved seeing how happy they all were. How Dorothea drunkenly traced the shape of Ingrid's jaw with her index finger in spite of Ingrid's quickly reddening face. Likewise, Ashe was clumsily trying to flirt with Dedue over a plate of hor d'oeuvres. At least, that was the impression she got from the exchange. Even so, she felt like an outsider looking in.

She spoke a little with Gilbert about plans going forward, and then made her way to the balcony for some fresh air. 

Dimitri was looking out over the balustrade, taking in the twinkling lights of the city away from everyone else. He had been crying, she could see it in the redness around his eye. But she did not mention it to him. 

They didn't say much. 

Byleth stepped next to him, her hands resting on the cool stone. She had never seen Fhirdiad from this high up, or how the hearths inside the houses shone like stars at night. 

His hand brushed hers, perhaps by accident. Perhaps intentionally. He pulled away by an inch and cleared his throat. 

She responded by pressing the side of her hand into his. 

Dimitri hesitated, then placed his hand atop hers.

Something in the feel of his skin on hers brought her a sense of calm that she hadn't known in a long time.

* * *

Byleth fought valiantly with the rest of them, but she was so tired. So very tired. Ashe had fallen. Then Ingrid. Then Caspar. She had to fix it. Had to bring them back. Had to stop the blood and Hilda's screams and the smell of death and...

And she did, but the Divine Pulse was such a stress on her.

She collapsed into the ground moments after victory was called.

As soon as he had noticed, Dimitri abandoned his post. He scooped Byleth into his arms, cradling her against him as he promised to get her to someone who could help. One of the cavalry units forfeited their horse for the occasion.

"She's not injured, only fatigued." 

Manuela knew best. Manuela  _ always _ knew best. She had her own infirmary tent set up a short ride from the battlefield, outfitted with the best they could afford to bring. She poked and prodded at Byleth some more, who was only half invested in what was happening. 

"Perhaps you should stop keeping our dear Professor out so late for meetings on the eve of battle, Your Majesty." She winked and turned to an injured soldier elsewhere in the tent.

* * *

A big celebration was held at Garreg Mach to welcome the end of the war and the unification of Fodlan. Provisions were brought in from local villages to supply the army’s forces with food and drink. With wine came music and similar merriment, filling the monastery with dancing and laughter aplenty. 

It was nice to forget the pain for a little while, to focus on the joys of victory and survival. They could bury the dead later.

Byleth had abandoned the festivities early. Early enough that she felt it inappropriate to hide in her room for the remainder of the night. So, she chose to hide in one of the more private gardens.

Dimitri apparently had the same sort of idea.

His presence was silent company until she suggested that he should be with the others. The people would want to see their King. To see him dancing, and laughing, and drinking with them, sharing in the joy just as much as he had shared in their misery.

He didn’t think he should have. Dimitri’s self loathing was so prevalent as he insisted that no one would want him there. That they would see through him and see the monster in his past. 

_ What if I want you there? _

Byleth teased him, claiming his hesitance was because he didn’t know how to dance. Of course, she knew he had. She had seen him dance skillfully in the past. But perhaps he needed a little goading, someone to give him permission to forgive himself and have a bit of fun.

Of course he knew how to dance, Dimitri insisted while acutely aware that she said it in nothing but jest. He wasn’t the best dancer in the bunch, but he could keep tempo and lead a partner as well as anyone else.

“Then prove it.”

She hadn’t expected her challenge to him to end in him bowing ceremoniously and offering his hand for a dance. When he had, Byleth couldn’t muster much of a response outside a laugh. Still, she took his hand and allowed him to lead her through a silent waltz in the garden. 

There was something in the way he looked at her then that caused her heart to leap into her throat.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're at the halfway point, just about, so I decided to update twice this week as opposed to once. 
> 
> Chapter warnings are temporary character death.
> 
> As always, you can find me on Twitter as @QueenofThisDick.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and commenting, and I hope you enjoy.

_ A week until the coronation. _

Seteth had given up on teaching Byleth, at least for the time being. He was to be her right hand, and he could guide her along. He hoped he could, and had been telling himself as much when he left her so he could attend to other matters. She doubted her own capabilities enough to assume that his waning interest in educating her dealt in that realm of thinking rather than a general lack of time and too much to do.

Byleth had her own things that needed her attention, as it was, and couldn’t dwell on what she perceived to be Seteth’s doubts. She needed to pack her room because she would be officially relocated to Rhea's chambers the night of the coronation. A comfortable room was made up for Rhea, though she would not be staying long; she had her own accommodations made elsewhere, and she did not wish to remain in the monastery after the coronation. 

Mercedes helped her pack her things into baskets and sacks to be brought up to her new chambers throughout the week. She had organized everything into neat piles. Things that were not necessary for day to day life and could go now, and things that needed to be sent up the morning of. She was so organized and attentive to these things, whereas Byleth was happy shoving it all into sacks and damn if she needed it during that week. 

She had been busy with some baubles on her desk when Mercedes looked up.

"I think Dimitri and Sylvain will be returning today." There was a happiness in her tone, unmistakably so. This was confirmed by the gentle smile on her face.

"Oh?"

Mercedes’ smile brightened and she curled a stray bit of hair behind her ear. Some books were carefully placed in a burlap sack to her right. "Sylvain in his last letter said that he finished what he needed to do at home and met up with Dimitri in Fhirdiad. He thought they would be heading back to Garreg Mach shortly."

Byleth continued with her packing, but her eyes were focused on Mercedes. She had known. Known since they had to fight Hubert in Enbarr. The memory of it was seared in her mind, like a white-hot brand etching it a scar.

_ Mercedes on the battlefield. Enemy charging at her, weapon drawn. She tries to dodge out of the way, but her foot is trapped by a piece of fallen debris. She's not going to get away. She's going to d- _

_ Sylvain leaps in front of her. His action is brash and he has no time to draw his Lance and parry the blow. He's struck fatally, stumbling back into Mercedes. She fires bolganone at his attacker, doesn't even watch long enough to see if she killed him.  _

_ Sinking to the ground with Sylvain's dying body, she begins to weep. "Please, you can't die here." She readies a healing spell, but he's already too far gone; no magic could reach him anymore. "Please, Sylvain! Sylvain, I love you! I love you! Oh, Goddess, please don't die!" _

_ Her desperate wails drown out the sound of battle around her.  _

Did Sylvain know? 

* * *

Annette and Hilda accompanied Byleth to her final dress fitting for her coronation gown. They had readied the old Golden Deer classroom for this purpose, going so far as to use the blackboard as a makeshift changing screen. Hilda and the dressmaker were helping her into the dress, doing up all the delicate buttons lining the back while Annette discussed plans for the celebration to follow. 

Byleth didn't know what protocol was for this sort of celebration, so she left the planning to Annette. Provisions were brought in from Fhirdiad at the crown’s expense so that the locals may celebrate. For their own celebration at Garreg Mach, it was going to be a quiet affair. They would all attend, and refreshment and music would be provided, but Byleth wanted nothing more beyond that. 

In a way, she expected it would be a sober affair, one where the realization that they would have to return to their separate territories shortly settled in. 

Annette was doing well with avoiding that reality for the time being. "So, Dedue and Ashe have the menu all planned, and Mercie is making the most wonderful pastries--oh, but Felix doesn't like sweets, so maybe I can ask Dedue to whip up a savory hor d'oeuvre to his liking that we can serve during the dessert course. And Dorothea and Manuela said they could sing something from--"

_ The Demonic Beast rears back, an acrid stench of sulfur and rot roils out from its mouth. A blazing fire erupts, incinerating all in its wake. Burning. Raging. Destroying. _

_ There is nowhere to escape. Trees are felled in the wake of the fire. Flames lick at every viable escape. Annette turns to Felix, worry etched on her face. The beast is readying a second attack. They're cornered, nowhere to run except more fire. He grabs for her hand, his own shaking, and pulls her into a tight hug against him, using his own body as a shield. Felix pivots, back facing the beast as the fire consumes them both.  _

"Does that sound good, Professor?"

Byleth snapped from her reverie. Hilda was just finishing up the last of the buttons while the dressmaker came around with the mantle to drape over her shoulders. 

"Whatever you think is best, Annette." She didn't want to admit she hadn't heard anything of what Annette had said.

The dressmaker clasped the mantle and gave Byleth the go-ahead to show Annette. Hilda scampered back first, wanting to experience the full reveal as well, despite having helped with the dress.

Both girls clapped when Byleth came out from behind the chalkboard. Annette was a little more enthusiastic than Hilda, which Byleth expected. They commented on the parts they liked. Annette liked the lace trim a lot. She was afraid it was going to look too bridal during the first fitting, and she supposed it still looked  _ a bit _ bridal, but with the mantle, it was more toned down.

"How are you planning on doing your hair and makeup for the coronation?" Hilda asked.

"Dorothea has been giving me some pointers on makeup, but I think I'll just wear my hair down. I'll have to wear the headdress, after all."

Hilda nodded. "Has Lady Rhea let you try on the headdress? Even for a  _ teensy  _ moment?"

Byleth shook her head. In truth, they hadn't spoken or even seen each other since she had Rhea had that private chat several weeks ago. She had been avoiding her, if she was being honest. Byleth had no idea what was going to transpire when they finally did speak, but she was afraid. 

"Not yet," Byleth said, forcing a smile onto her stony face, "I think she wanted to wait until I was officially handed the title. You know, for the symbolism of it."

"I see, I see." I can't wait for the whole look to be revealed, then!" Hilda clasped her hands together. 

* * *

Sylvain, Dedue, Dimitri, and their convoy of soldiers arrived by mid-afternoon. Mercedes' prediction had been right, it seemed. The stables were alive with their presence, which they had sorely missed these weeks. Byleth, Annette, Felix, and Mercedes decided to greet them.

When they arrived, Sylvain was chatting with a stable hand and two guards while Dedue finished up with getting his own horse into the stable. He didn't initially stop when he saw them but did give them a warm smile to let them know he saw them. Eventually, the guards and stable hand had to get back to work, however, and Sylvain was able to speak with them.

"Where's the boar?" Felix asked sharply, glancing around for any sign of Dimitri.

"Stayed in the village with Gilbert to talk with some of the townspeople. Politics." He waved his hand in a way to dismiss the topic. "But he'll be back before dark." He gave Byleth a look that said  _ I have so much to tell you. _

When Sylvain noticed Mercedes, he dropped all other discussions and swept her in for a hug. He held her tightly, obviously not wanting to let go. And it was clear from Mercedes' body language that she did not want to let go of him either. This time, Byleth gave Svain a look. 

Prior to them making plans to get something to eat, and they were sure Dedue and Sylvain had to be famished, Ashe came walking up from the marketplace, bow clutched firmly in his hand. He offered a greeting to Sylvain, then hesitated a moment.

“How was your trip?” He asked casually, making small talk.

“Same old stuff, different day with my old man,” Sylvain groused, “got a scolding for not having a wife yet.”

Ashe nodded in understanding.

Dedue walked out of the stables then, wiping his hands on a cloth square he had tucked into his traveling clothes. When Ashe saw him, his amicable grin turned to one of pure joy. He started to head over, and midway into a hug, he caught himself and backed up a step, face flushed and eyes cast downwards. 

Dedue was smiling at him all the same and touched a hand to the one Ashe had on his bow. They said nothing, but they didn’t need to; the look they were sharing spoke loud enough for the both of them. 

“I think Ashe and I will be declining the lunch invitation,” Dedue remarked, Ashe nodding in agreement. 

When they both were out of earshot, Annette squealed happily. “Those two are so cute together!” 

“Let’s go get lunch, I’m starved.”

* * *

The five of them had a late lunch together. It was nice, some summer vegetables they had been growing in the greenhouse sauteed with some mushrooms and duck meat and served over a bed of wild rice. Sylvain talked of his time back home in Gautier territory, how relations with Sreng were going and how Margrave Gautier expected Sylvain home after the coronation so that he could learn his duties and eventually take over. There was something in the way he spoke that made it clear that he did not wish to comply with his father's wishes, but he was in a situation where he was forced to. 

They finished up their meal and the others left, but Sylvain lingered a little longer and made a gesture to signal Byleth to walk with him. 

The days had already begun to get colder. On particularly frigid nights, fires would be lit and those still at the monastery would gather round to warm themselves. And these days, the monastery was almost a ghost town. Lorenz and Ferdinand were two of the first to return home. Lysithea, Bernadetta, and Raphael were close after. Petra, Linhardt, and Marianne were the last to go, though Byleth suspected it was only a matter of time until Leonie was gone, and assumed Ignatz only planned on staying until the cathedral was painted.

"What did you wish to talk about?" Byleth asked of Sylvain. They made their way through the gardens, past the gazebo. There was something different about him. Normally, Sylvain walked with an air of confidence about him, as much as Byleth knew that was a facade. Today, he seemed more reserved. More cautious.

Sylvain searched for the proper words for a time. She didn't press him.

"Professor, I think I'm in love with Mercedes."

"You say that to a lot of girls."

"No, it's different with her. I...I don't know how to explain it. I don't know, she just sees me in a way no one else bothered to. And…and there's a lot more, but being home without her there was the hardest thing I've ever done. I don't want to be away from her again."

He was crying a little, but he subtly tried to brush back the tears so that Byleth wouldn't notice them. She didn't comment on it. 

"I think I'm going to ask her to marry me. On the night of your coronation, if that's alright by you."

"You don't need my permission to ask her to marry you."

"I know, I know," he rubbed the back of his neck, "it's your day, so I wanted to make sure you were okay with it."

Like someone flipped a lever in his mind, Sylvain's attitude shifted and he was back to his usual demeanor. He cast her a playful grin that caused her stomach to feel unsettled. 

"I also have something to tell you that you might be interested in hearing."

"Nothing bad, I hope."

Sylvain shook his head. " _ Dimitri _ wouldn't shut up about you the whole way back. 'Byleth this', 'Byleth that'. Since when did he start calling you Byleth and not  _ Professor _ ?"

She said nothing.

"Can you just talk to him already and get this over with?"

* * *

Byleth helped out with some preparations before dinner. Seteth urged her to not involve herself with matters such as security and he practically had to drag her away when she was discussing placement of guards and the Knights of Seiros with Alois. Those things would be handled by others, he assured. She was no longer Commander of Faerghus' armies, having to delegate things for a disillusioned King who couldn't make these decisions himself; she could pass responsibility down to others if need be. 

Still, this felt like the quiet before the storm, she felt. 

Something was brewing and she didn't know what. Byleth didn't like that sense of quiet and the apprehension it filled her with, so she did her best to keep busy and take her mind off it. 

As she was taking her dinner with Ashe and Dedue, one of the monks approached her with word that Lady Rhea wished to speak with her at her earliest convenience. The thought left a large lump in her throat that couldn't be swallowed down easily. 

Byleth knew they needed to talk, beyond a shadow of a doubt. But, she was hoping to have the opportunity to do it on her own terms. Not like this. 

She finished up her meal and made her way to Rhea's chambers. 

* * *

Rhea was sitting at a small table on her terrace when Byleth arrived. Her condition hadn't seemed to improve any over the month. Or, Byleth was just shit at noticing recovery, which was very much a possibility. She beckoned her over with a warm if stilted, smile. 

When Byleth stepped onto the terrace, she noticed the second chair set up for her. The second teacup, filled with a warm brownish tea. The second tea saucer. 

Rhea was hoping to keep her a while.

Byleth sat uncomfortably, shifting her weight noticeably. She didn't touch her tea, despite Rhea's insistence. Her stomach was all worked up in knots and her palms were clammy. This was not good.

"I wanted to check in on you to see how the preparations are going," Rhea started, sipping her own tea delicately, "I apologize for not assisting in these matters, but my health has been so weak as of late. Do you have any questions for me? Anything you need advice on before you become Archbishop?"

"I'm nothing but a means to an end to you, aren't I?" 

The words came out cold and bitter, but there was a fire raging on within. Whatever filters Byleth had were abandoned, and by the time she realized what she had said, more words were spitting from her lips like venom.

"You saw me as disposable, someone whose life you could throw away to bring back your mother. Does my own life mean so little to you? Do I mean so little? I'm just a host for her to you. I'm nothing. I'm meaningless."

Byleth was standing. She didn't remember getting up. Her voice was raised, and she was crying. Byleth trembled. From anger, from fear of what Rhea would say from this point. 

"Are you that selfish? To...to sacrifice me to resurrect your mother?"

"Byleth, I…" Rhea's own voice quivered, no doubt from the shock, "I must apologize. When we met--when the Sword of the Creator showed itself to you, I had incorrectly assumed you were my mother, devoid of her memories, and in a misguided, and frankly selfish action on my part, I tried to awaken her within you. I realize now that you are your own person, not her, and my actions have hurt you."

Tears clouded her vision. Her stomach churned again, but not from anger this time.

She fastened her eyes tight. When she opened them, she was in the familiar, if haunting, purple space.

Rhea was unmoving, a sad expression on her face. 

Byleth knew this emotion, this guilt. She had been accusatory and hostile when she should have asked her questions in a calm and composed manner. She should have given Rhea the benefit of the doubt before assuming the worst. And now she was crying, hugging herself tightly, and trembling. The thought of how she would pay for this brazen use of her abilities was far from her mind. The only thing that she could think of reliably was how much this outburst must have let those down who put faith in her as the next Archbishop.  


She sat back down in her chair, wiped her eyes on her sleeves, and took a deep breath. 

Then, she restarted time. 

"I wanted to check in on you to see how the preparations were going."

* * *

The fatigue set in as soon as Rhea excused her. 

Byleth was clinging to the walls the whole way down the stairs, cursing whoever built the monastery without rails to hang on to. She was so tired. So very tired. And her room was so far away. 

But, she tried to make it there, shambling like a corpse, staving off the urge to collapse to her knees with every step. 

It was always like this, the exhaustion following the Divine Pulse. Her body's reaction was always the same, always wanting for nothing more than sleep. She didn't like others to see her like this, but she had been carried off the battlefield more often than she liked to admit. Or, she had to use one of the others as a crutch until she could make it to a horse to carry her back. 

"Byleth? Are you okay? Let me help you."

Everything had gone kind of hazy and dark, like both her vision and mind were enveloped in a fog of sorts. Her body felt entirely leaden, unable to carry the burden of its own weight. Then suddenly, it didn’t have to. Someone had picked her up and was carrying her. She had wanted to fight it, insisting weakly that she could walk and that it was an unnecessary gesture, but her exhausted body demanded otherwise. 

Then, like the fog had been lifted for only the briefest of moments she recognized the person carrying her.

* * *

He did not leave her when they got to her room. Dimitri poured her a glass of water from the pitcher on her bedside table and made her comfortable in bed. He offered to see if he could get her something to eat, assuming she was faint from lack of nourishment, but she insisted that he did not need to bother. A King had more pressing things to worry about. 

But he insisted. 

He was sitting with her on the bed when he finally asked, "These fainting spells of yours, are they a medical condition? Perhaps Manuela has some herbs or tonics you can take to help. I'm concerned for your health."

Byleth said nothing, unsure of how much she wished to share. He had to have known there was something different about her. Something wholly not human.

"Dimitri, You may not believe what I'm about to tell you."

She told him everything. Once she started, it all came spilling out like an overfilled cup. Byleth didn't bother to stop it, or the tears that came when she talked about having seen all of them die countless times, having to watch Jeralt die a second time and realizing that she couldn't save him. The guilt, the nightmares that led to insomnia. Her yelling at Rhea only an hour ago and restarting their meeting with her powers to take it all back. Everything.

Dimitri patiently listened to it all. Throughout, she could not get a read on him. His expression was hard set and cold, reminiscent of when she had found him in the monastery a year ago, yet lacking the cruelty. 

"So, you  _ are _ the goddess?"

"Yes--no. It's complicated. I'm a host for her, and I have some of her power. But I'm me."

"Well, that's a relief, if you don't mind my saying. I would miss you dearly if you became the goddess completely."

"Dimitri, what do you mean by that?"

He turned away, gazing down at the floor and pushing a lock of hair behind his ear in an awkward gesture. Byleth could see that he was blushing, despite his best efforts to hide it from her. 

"Dimitri."

When he finally looked up at her, she kissed him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting a bit steamy here, guys! 
> 
> No real warnings, but we're getting closer to no pants hours.
> 
> You can find me on Twitter as @QueenofThisDick.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading!

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that."

This was bad. This was  _ bad.  _ Byleth didn't know what came over her that moment, but all she could think about was how kind he had been to listen to her, how kind he had always been to her. How handsome he looked in the candlelight, which cast dramatic shadows on his face. How soft his lips must have been in comparison to his rough hands. None of that gave her any right to kiss him without asking, though. 

Dimitri was visibly confused, and rightfully so. He had fallen back onto his right hand, propped up for balance as he searched Byleth's face for something. She couldn't get a read on his expression, whether her surprise was a pleasant sort. It wasn't a stony mask, just  _ surprise _ , and she couldn't figure out what that meant. 

"Let's just pretend that never happened."

He righted himself, a little more composed than a moment ago, but definitely still working out how he wished to proceed. She knew Dimitri, knew he liked to plan for three steps ahead, and this did not factor into any plans he may have had. There was a curiosity there, though. The confusion had made way for something else. Something a bit interested, perhaps? "I have wanted to kiss you for so long. Can I kiss you again?"

Byleth nodded. 

Dimitri proceeded slowly. He leaned over her, drinking in the sight of her. Normally, he concealed these looks, but there was something heated and carnal about seeing it now. About seeing passion on his face in such an unrestrained and hungry way. He brushed his hand over one of her ears, allowing his bulky fingers to tangle themselves into her hair as he drew in closer.

His kiss was more deliberate and less rushed than hers had been. It was like Dimitri was sampling her, getting a taste for the complexity and richness of her. She cupped his face in her hands. He cinched his free arm around her waist and drew her against him in response. She decided to test him with her tongue. Dimitri accepted it greedily.

When he pulled away, Byleth found herself chasing his lips, desperate for more. She could see it on his face too, the longing for more, but the need to attend to other things being much greater. 

"Can we see each other like this again?" His voice was low and husky, though oddly boyish from his obvious nerves. Perhaps it was the whole situation or the question in the air between them. But whatever confidence he had as King, as a leader on the battlefield and as a tactician, it was gone. At that moment, he was scared, and he was waiting for guidance on how to move forward.

"I would like that."

* * *

They saw a lot of each other that week.

It was all very subtle. Stolen moments between his discussion with Gilbert and a meeting with one of his advisors who had joined him to Garreg Mach about taxation rates. Coordinated insomnia so they could meet in the cathedral after dark for alone time. Fleeting kisses in the training hall, in the stables after a morning ride, whenever they were positive they wouldn't be seen. 

Because they both knew Dimitri didn't need a scandal getting out right now. Not so early in his reign. 

In spite of their caution, Byleth found herself aroused by the whole affair. 

Not that she was getting on with a major political figure--that aspect of him was unimportant. It was the thrill of this secret between them. The heat that built inside of her with each kiss, each look of longing whenever they spotted each other about their daily tasks and couldn't break from them to share in an embrace. 

She longed for more than the physical with him, though. And that terrified her more than the obvious tension building between them. 

They both managed to break away from their duties long enough to get a sparring match in. Dimitri had suggested it, thinking the training hall would be empty that time of day and they could squeeze a bit of quality time in before Gilbert or Seteth were looking for one of them. He had said  _ spar,  _ but from the look in his eye and the way his hand was cupped over the small of her back when no one could see them, she knew he had no intention of doing anything of the sort. 

Much to their chagrin, Some guards were posted inside, along with Felix, who was just finishing up a sparring match with one of the newer Knights of Seiros. 

So, that was ruled out. 

Once Felix's match was done and he was busy with maintaining his equipment and giving the young knight a rundown on why he lost, they elected to spar anyway. 

Byleth had almost wished she could have watched Dimitri spar with Felix so she could appreciate his form. In everyday life, she had seen how clumsy he could be, breaking things at what he thought was a gentle touch. But on the battlefield, he possessed the elegance and grace of a dancer.

He dodged whatever attacks she threw his way masterfully. And in those rare instances where he couldn't, he deflected her blows with equal precision. Dimitri traded attacks, leaving her hardly unscathed, but well enough still to continue.

Even so, Byleth held her own. She managed to push him back with sweeping blows from her training lance. Connecting attack after attack to his lance, his abdomen. And through a stroke of fate, she disarmed him.

Dimitri did not quit there. They wrestled for her lance, using the brute strength he had on her to still claim victory. He managed to knock her off her feet. He tried to pin her, pressing the shaft of the lance down. 

Byleth knew she couldn't beat him in a strength contest. She pivoted her hips, sending them both rolling until Dimitri was on his back and she was straddling him. Using the weight of her body, she tried to keep him pinned under her.

Then she could feel it, pressing against her inner thigh and groin as he struggled to get out from underneath her. She could feel  _ him _ . Hot, and hard, and pulsing. Even through his pants. Byleth looked him in the eye and could see it all over his face. He was flushed, but not from exertion. And he was trying to keep focused, trying to keep his attention on the sparring match, but it was a losing battle.

She had him pinned completely, arms overhead. They were both still clutching the lance, but his grip had loosened considerably. The new position and shift in weight caused Byleth to unintentionally press into him further. He bit his lip at the sensation and cast his eye beyond her.

A moment passed where she considered kissing him. 

Dimitri looked over to Felix, then back at her, likely considering the same for a split second. "Gilbert is probably looking for me." 

"You shouldn't keep him waiting, then."

Dimitri left in a hurry, abandoning the training lance without properly maintaining it in an action so unlike himself. 

Felix had been watching the whole time. The way Dimitri clumsily put the lance back on the weapon stand and almost took the whole thing down. The way he rushed out without glancing back at either of them, forcing his shoulders to square in a way that was disingenuous. He gave Byleth an odd sort of look on Dimitri's exit.

Goddess, she wished he hadn't seen the whole thing.

* * *

The coronation went fine. Rhea passed down the headdress, so to speak, around noon. It was a big ceremony with the choir singing and ceremonies playing out. Byleth felt like she was in a sort of trance throughout, only going through the motions as Seteth had instructed her to. When it was all said and done, she could scarcely remember it. 

There was a few hours downtime between the actual event and the celebration itself, so Byleth took the time to become acquainted with her new chambers and to rest up. She sat at the vanity, looking at everything laid out on it. None of this felt real to her. And she doubted if it ever would.

Jeralt's ring gleamed in the midday sun, drawing her attention to it. Byleth ran her index finger around its circumference, remembering his insistence to give it to someone she loved. 

_ Someone she loved _ . 

Byleth tossed the ring in her jewelry box and snapped the lid shut. Those were thoughts for later. 

* * *

The celebration itself was fine, as far as those things went. All the food was delicious and expertly prepared. But, she expected no less when Dedue and Ashe were working together. The drink was equally good and just as abundant, though Byleth only drank sparingly in an effort to remain sober. 

She danced with Claude, who insisted on being her first dance for old times' sake. He ended up being her only partner for the night, as it was. 

Everyone was enjoying themselves, ignoring the looming reality that this occasion marked the end of the Blue Lions as a house. She could tell some were already making preparations for that.

Like Sylvain, who had his hand stuffed in his pocket, toying with the ring he intended to propose to Mercedes with, no doubt, as he waited for the right opportunity to steal her away for a private moment. 

Byleth had grown weary of the celebration and decided to see herself out. She thanked Dorothea for the lovely aria she had just finished on her way out with a kiss to both cheeks and began making her way to her chambers.

She didn't head straight there, however. 

Dimitri had been strangely absent since the fifth course, though she had an idea of where to find him.

* * *

The cathedral's rebuild had been finished for the better part of two weeks. More craftspeople were called in to get the job done as expediently as possible, given her coronation had been pushed up. It was as good as before, she thought, except she struggled with painting an accurate image of what it looked like before in her minds' eye. 

Dimitri stood at the altar, wrapped snugly in furs to stave off the Wyvern Moon chill. 

She didn't need to call out to him, he turned when he heard her approach, meeting her eyes. "Had enough of the festivities?"

"I never know what to do at parties." 

When she was within arms' reach, he pulled her in for a kiss.

The cathedral was empty, save them, so she lingered a little longer, kissed him a little more passionately than she had throughout the week. He groaned into her mouth, hungry and carnal, but restrained all the same. 

By the Goddess, she wanted him. 

"I want to show you something."

* * *

Dimitri looked over the balustrade of her private terrace, taking in the view of the mountains. 

He hadn't said much on their way up. When Byleth offered him her hand, he took it and allowed himself to be led blindly to wherever she wished to take him. 

"It's beautiful up here." he commented, turning away from the view to look at her, "these are your chambers now?"

Byleth nodded. "I moved in today."

"I have never been up here before, not even during the war."

"I recall. Gilbert tried to offer you Rhea's room because he felt it was a more defensible place for you to rest than your old room."

They both fell quiet, tension weighing heavy on them both. 

"I head back to Fhirdiad tomorrow," Dimitri said, cutting into the silence. There was an unmistakable melancholy about that statement, something that had to be said that she understood acutely. 

He had to go back home, back to his duties as King, where she couldn't steal his kisses when they passed each other in a secluded corridor. No more rides at dawn through the mountains so they could watch the sunrise. No more late-night meals shared in the war room because their work needed them. 

It became harder for him to justify reasons to stay in Garreg Mach with his responsibilities piling up and her position made official. 

A pang of hurt surged through her entire being.

"Stay with me tonight."

The words came fast and without restraint.

Byleth closed the gap between them, leaving mere inches as she looked up at him, searching his face for an answer. She placed one of her hands to his bicep in an attempt to make her intentions clear.

"You mean--"

"--I mean…will you spend the night with me?"

"...Yes."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally made it to actual sexy bits, everyone! 
> 
> As for warnings, there's the sex, but we're also dealing pretty heavily in some mental health stuff with Dimitri and some anxiety issues with Byleth.
> 
> As always, you can find me on Twitter as @QueenofThisDick.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

Byleth led him into the room proper and began stripping him of his furs and warmer clothes. She hadn't bothered to close the door--it was warm enough inside and no one would be coming up to bother her when they said she needed rest. Dimitri was nervous, but willing, made obvious by the way he helped her shed his layers and discard them on the floor.

"Do you want to stop?" She asked.

"No. I want this. I want  _ you _ . I just...I'm not very experienced in intimate matters."

"That's okay, Dimitri. We'll go slow."

She explored his body over his clothes. Running her hands down his sides and strong thighs, then back up over his stomach and chest. He was fit, and she could feel it even through the layer of fabric. Then, she untucked his shirt and slipped her hands onto his bare stomach.

Dimitri gasped at the coldness of her skin, yet made no effort to stop. It was quite the opposite. He unbuttoned the shirt as her hands ran their courses up and down, chest to stomach, and tossed it on the floor with the rest of his clothes. 

He made himself comfortable on the bed, propped up by the elbows as Byleth positioned herself between his knees. She stroked his thighs, getting close to his prominently hard cock. Close enough that he took the hint and unbuttoned his pants and shimmied out of them to free it.

Byleth smiled at him once it was free. Dimitri gave her his own, more shy smile. She took him by the base, giving him a few strokes, then stopping to gauge his response. When he breathed in sharply and mouthed what she assumed to be an obscenity, she continued stroking and giving his cock the occasional lick or kiss.

"What a pretty cock." Byleth gave it another quick stroke, then slipped him into her mouth.

Dimitri froze.

"Do you want me to stop?" Byleth asked, prying herself off him the moment she noticed his hesitation.

"It's just...you're still in your Archbishop headdress and clothes while you're telling me I have a pretty… and you're doing that with your mouth."

"Oh, right."

Dimitri helped undress Byleth. She removed the headdress herself, putting it on the vanity. After, he worked on the mantle and dress. He was no good with the tiny buttons lining the back and grew frustrated enough to rip some of them off completely when he couldn't get them through the small loops. Despite his obvious frustration with the delicate buttons, he had a rare sort of gentleness with the way he traced her spine, the way his fingers danced over the scars and freckles on her back. His hands were rough from years of combat, but they were still like electricity on her skin.

The dress fell away, and she guided his hands to her breasts, he kneaded them in his large, trembling hands, occasionally pulling his eye from them to look her in the eye. He was staring at her body, his own face and chest flushed red. When he noticed he was staring, he would look back at her face shyly, ease up a bit with his hands on her breasts. But, his gaze always trickled down. Down to her breasts and between her legs. 

There was something oddly charming about his lack of experience and the embarrassment that followed.

Dimitri's fingers dug into the supple flesh while he was staring, causing Byleth to wince.

"Gentle." She instructed, placing her hands on his. 

Dimitri eased up immediately, uttering an apology and continuing, though with renewed tenderness. He explored her much the same as she had him. Tracing her sides, running his hands over her stomach. Her thighs. His hands quivered the whole time, the nerves resurfacing. 

She took one of his hands and guided it between her legs. "Right here." Byleth kept her hand over his, guiding his fingers through the ministrations on her clitoris. Tracing patterns on his skin to show him how she liked it. Dimitri was perceptive, and took the guidance. He learned quickly, fingers working deftly on her, causing her breath to get caught in her throat.

"Let's go to bed."

Dimitri backed up into the bed, returning to his old position, propped up on his elbows. Byleth mounted him swiftly, sinking his cock about a third into her with a fluid motion. He groaned and fell to his back while he grappled desperately for her hips.

She started slow. Gently riding up and down. Up and down. Looking down at him.  _ Goddess _ , he was handsome like that, eye half-lidded and mouth open. 

She braced her hands onto his chest and picked up speed. Up and down. Fuck, he felt good. Like he was made just for her. Just for her body. To be pressed against her, and inside her, and--

His grip on her hips tightened. Almost painfully so. But that pain was delicious. He was breathing heavily and moaning. Bucking his hips into her every movement. He was looking at her, where their bodies joined. Her breasts. Her face. His eye flitted between the three, unsure of which was the most beautiful.

"Ah...ah...Dimitri…"

Byleth fell forward. Pressed into him. Dimitri kissed her. Her chin. Her lips, where he smothered a moan into her mouth. He nipped her bottom lip. A hint of iron on her tongue. His hands weren't on her anymore. The sound of tearing fabric. His heat between her legs. Inside her. Throbbing. Hard. Wet. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"I'm…I'm close." His voice quivered. 

"Shit. Hold on."

Byleth slid off. She took him in her hand again, rapidly stroking him. Dimitri's hips continued to buck. His fingers tore into the sheets of the bed. And then he came, spilling down her fingers.

"B...Byleth!"

* * *

Dimitri was panting heavily in the bed. He was looking beyond her like he didn't see her just then. One of his hands ran along his sweat-slicked chest idly. When he finally came back to reality, he smiled weakly at her and made to lean up for a kiss, but hesitated when his gaze lingered down towards her hand.

"Oh, Goddess...I'm...I'm terribly sorry."

He started searching around for something to clean it up with.

Byleth shrugged. "I expected to get a bit messy when I invited you up." She wiped her hand on the sheet. 

Dimitri's expression of shock turned to one of utter horror when he saw the roughly hand-shaped tears in her sheets at his sides. "Byleth, I'm--"

"Dimitri, stop apologizing. It's fine. I'll get new sheets."

She rolled off him entirely, finding a spot in the bed beside him. Dimitri snuggled close once she secured a spot, head resting on her shoulder while he traced patterns into the skin of her stomach with one of his hands. 

One of her hands drifted between her legs. Byleth hadn't come; when Dimitri said he was inexperienced, she hadn't expected to either. She slipped one finger in, finding a rhythm. Two fingers. She was already getting back to where she was when he was inside her. 

"Byleth, I--oh. I disappointed you."

Dimitri was looking at her hand between her legs, watching her work herself in a combination of curiosity and hurt.

Her movements slowed. "I'm not disappointed, I just didn't finish. I didn't expect it when you said you were still fairly new to this."

His mouth was set in a hard line. "I had wanted to make you feel good."

"You did," She rolled onto her side so she could get a better look at him, "Dimitri, if inviting you to sleep with me was about wanting to come, I could have done it myself,  _ by _ myself. I wanted to spend the night with  _ you _ ."

A brief smile crept across his face. "Still, I want to help...help get you there. Show me how?"

Byleth took her fingers out of herself and grabbed his wrist. She guided his hand between her legs a second time, letting him explore her a bit before giving him instruction. "Like before. Remember?"

He nodded. 

Dimitri traced the same circles on her clit that he had prior. His fingers were bulky, and the skin was rough, but he was warm and practicing enough restraint that he didn't press too hard. 

Byleth's breath hitched.  _ Fuck. _

"Okay. Try putting a finger in." 

To give him an idea, Byleth slipped one of her own fingers in first, pumping it to demonstrate the motion she liked. When she removed hers, Dimitri quickly replaced it with his middle finger. 

He was slow to gather speed, but he was learning, watching as she made gestures to give him an idea of what to do once inside. Dimitri observed and repeated. Byleth's grip on his wrist tightened. Fuck, she was getting close.

"Two...two fingers now."

He obeyed.

Dimitri was watching her, watching her eyes. His fingers were constant, rigid, and warm, and hitting her just right. She had stopped showing him what to do; he had gotten the gist already. He pressed the pad of his thumb into her clit, moving it in small circles along her as his fingers continued pumping in and out. 

"Fuck...Dimi…"

Byleth’s orgasm built in her core like a small flame, flickering weakly until it ignited truly and raged on throughout her body. Her hand on his wrist tightened and she threw her head back, the warmth surging through her entirely. She dug her heels into the mattress, rocked her hips into the palm of his hand, cursed the goddess, cursed his name, moaned incomprehensibly. 

Then, as quickly as it had come on, it was over. Byleth collapsed into the bed, spent.

* * *

Byleth awoke with a start.

She had been sleeping. They both had. Then she felt his body shoot up in bed, startling her. It was still dark out, and the sun wouldn't be up for hours given what she could see through the veranda doors. Byleth rubbed her eyes and tried to make out what was happening in the dull glow of smoldering embers.

Dimitri was definitely awake. He was sitting up, body rigid and tense. The blankets pooled in his lap. He was looking around, a dark look on his face that caused Byleth's stomach to drop. He was crying, tears stained his face. 

"Dimitri--"

Byleth reached out for his arm to calm him, but he jerked away violently. 

"--Don't touch me!" His voice was hoarse and angry. Loud enough that she feared some of the guards might have heard him.

He looked at her, the too-familiar sneer from when she found him almost a year ago plastered on his face. The expression soon softened to one of recognition and deep regret when he truly saw her.

"I'm sorry, I'm…" He couldn't even bring himself to finish. The tears kept flowing.

"What is it? What happened?"

Dimitri cupped his face on his hand. He eased, but he still carried a lot of unresolved tension. "It was another one of my nightmares. We were fighting the Flame Emperor again--like 5 years ago. But it wasn't right. It was...I don't know. Things weren't the same. We were fighting her--them--in the cathedral. And when the mask fell away, it was my father behind it. I can hardly remember what he looks like, but I knew it was him. And…and…I always wake up scared and angry and  _ know _ it has to do with the Tragedy of Duscur, even when it's something more nonsensical."

"This is the first I'm hearing of these nightmares."

Dimitri didn't look at her. "I kept them to myself for fear of worrying you," he paused a beat, "you had enough on your plate, you didn't need my problems. You don't need me to become one of those problems."

"You're not a problem."

Byleth gestured for him to come close. He laid back down at her instruction, apprehensively, back facing her. She held him close, wrapping one of her arms around his waist while she stroked his hair back with her hand. "You're not a problem." 

He eased into her, gingerly holding her wrist in place. Dimitri was still crying. He hadn't really stopped. Trembling, he sobbed softly, not talking, not acknowledging her beyond his hand on her wrist. 

She didn't fall back asleep, though he did. Eventually, his mournful sobs were replaced by him talking in his sleep, pleading with someone--his father perhaps. Dimitri was still fitful, but Byleth would kiss his ear, the back of his neck, run her fingers along his spine, and he would ease up for a time. 

* * *

Morning came slowly but eventually. 

Dimitri roused when the first rays of sunlight touched his face. Like the night before, he was disoriented. He looked around the chamber, assessing his state, whether he was in danger. When he rolled over and saw Byleth beside him, his look of unease was replaced with a weak smile.

"Good morning." He said groggily with a peck to the lips.

"Morning."

"Part of me expected last night to be a dream. But here you are."

Byleth pushed the hair that was perpetually falling in his face over the crown of his head. Dimitri looked tired with the heavy bags under his eye and his pale complexion. But his mouth was set in a thin smile. "How are you feeling?"

Dimitri looked elsewhere. "You mean after the nightmare." He wasn't asking. 

"Yes. Are you doing any better?"

Dimitri pursed his lips. "Better than when I woke up from it. But I...I don't know the right words to explain it. I feel like my whole body is anticipating an attack from an enemy, but I cannot see the enemy, so I cannot predict their movements or how to effectively block or dodge it. And maybe they won't hit me. Or maybe it will be a weak attack that I can shrug off. But since I can't see them, I can only  _ wait _ to get hit."

Byleth caressed his cheek in an effort to bring him whatever small comforts she could. "Is it like this every time?"

He didn't say anything. Dimitri grappled at the sheets of the bed, like it was some sort of weapon he could arm himself with to protect himself from this sensation. "Knowing you were there the whole night helped. Better to not suffer alone." 

Both went silent. Dimitri still hadn't met her eyes, but he had cupped his hand over the one she had on his cheek, as if he was pleading with her to not remove it. He wanted--needed-- that comfort in that moment, and she wasn't going to deny him that. 

Then almost suddenly, Dimitri laughed to himself, a bit weak, given the obvious fatigue. "This is probably the least opportune time to say this, but last night put things into perspective."

"What do you mean?" Dimitri had since released her hand, so she allowed it to drop in her lap.

"That I...well, I suppose I love you."

Byleth's tongue fumbled over words she couldn't grasp and her heart leaped into her throat. Her mind was racing, entangled in a struggle between the part of her that wanted to fall into his arms and tell him she loved him too, and the part that was committed to her silence.

Dimitri rose from the bed. He collected his eyepatch from the bedside table and slipped it on, then began collecting his discarded garments from the floor and putting them into a tidy pile at the foot of the bed to be put on later.

"My advisors had been pushing me to court a wife my whole time in Fhirdiad. I had managed to stave them off because I hadn't been coronated yet, but in two weeks' time, I won't have that luxury. I was thinking the whole way back, perhaps you and I should wed."

"Dimitri."

"This isn't a proposal. Not yet. More...more something for you to consider. It wouldn't be right for me to spring such things on you, given your new status. The distance between Fhirdiad and Garreg Mach is an issue, of course. Still, I was thinking, once we have children, we could spend half the year in Fhirdiad, and half here. And obviously our duties would pull us back to our respective seats, but we could make this work."

Dimitri had rounded the bed and was now standing next to her. There was an earnestness in his expression that caused her stomach to drop. He was no longer looking for his clothes, only at her. 

Byleth knew, she  _ knew  _ he was waiting for her response. He wanted something. A yes, or a no. Just  _ something _ . And she knew she owed him an answer of sorts. 

"Oh...Oh my...oh Goddess! Wow! I'm going to turn around."

Byleth's attention snapped to the door in tandem with Dimitri when they heard the voice. 

Annette was standing in the doorway, shielding her eyes. She was flushed from ears down, and was making a hasty retreat behind the wall. 

Dimitri grappled for a bit of the bedsheet in order to conceal his nudity from her.

"Is there something you needed, Annette?" Byleth called out, putting on her cool facade in spite of the embarrassment coursing through her.

"I was...I was hoping to have a word with you privately, Professor," her voice cracked, "we can talk later if you're busy, though."

"Later would be best."

"Yes, of course." There was a pause on her end. Byleth had thought she left when the footsteps started. But, she returned with a sheepish, "Um...good morning, Dimitri."

Dimitri uttered a stilted greeting, and Annette left.

He dressed quickly, pulling on his undergarments and pants hastily, then his boots. While he was slipping his arm through his shirt, Dimitri turned back to Byleth, who hadn't bothered with dressing herself just yet. "So, what do you think?"

"About what? Annette? I'm going to have to tell her not to talk about what she just saw."

"No, not Annette."

_ About the prospect of marriage. _

Byleth fell against the pillows, hoping he would have given her more time to consider what she was feeling and what she wanted. But, she supposed he had to leave and wanted an answer to give his advisors before then. 

"I don't know, Dimitri. Are you sure you love me? Are you sure you're not just afraid of losing me because you'll be losing something comforting and familiar?"

Dimitri turned to her. One of his hands remained on the buttons of his shirt, leaving the job half complete, but not totally ignored. "Of course I love you. I had always admired you, and perhaps a bit of puppy love when I was in the Academy and once I understood you, but this is different. During the war, I realized I was falling, yet refrained from acting because there were more pressing matters to attend to. I can attend to this now and I can say without doubt that I love you."

He attempted to crawl over to her, to hold her and reassure her, she figured. Byleth pulled her legs to her chest, preventing him from getting closer. She was crying. Goddess, why was she crying? She used the side of her hand to mop up some of the tears.

"I did something wrong, you hardly cry like this."

"No, you didn't."

"Then, it's a yes."

"No."

"A no, then."

"No." Byleth got out of bed, wrapping herself in one of the blankets in the process. She was suddenly hyper-aware of her nudity and didn't want to continue having this conversation like that. She didn't want to continue having the conversation at all, but she didn't think Dimitri was going to let it go so easily.

He stood too, making his way over to her. There was about an arms' worth of space between them, enough for him to reach out if the need arose. "Then what is it, Byleth?"

"Fucking  _ Goddess,  _ I don't know, Dimitri!" The tears were coming rapidly now, blurring her vision enough to where she couldn't read his expression. That was probably for the best. "I need time to figure it out."

Dimitri nodded. He was visibly shocked by the outburst. "Do you think you will have an answer when you come to Fhirdiad?"

Byleth turned away. "I'm not sure."

He came to her, placing both of his hands on her shoulders. "I didn't mean to upset you. I have to go prepare for my departure, but I would like to see you one more time before I leave."

* * *

Byleth sat on the floor in her chambers for some time, crying, trying to make sense of the torrent of emotions she felt. The hurt in her heart only intensified as she sat on the cold stone floor by herself. 

Eventually, she pulled herself together enough to take a bath, dress, and pay Manuela a visit. 

The infirmary was empty, save Manuela, who appeared to be nursing a hangover when Byleth walked in. She motioned for her head and made a shushing motion, telling Byleth to keep her voice down.

"Drank too much, Archbishop? Need something for the hangover?"

Byleth took a seat at Manuela’s desk. "No. Do you...have any of those  _ herbs _ ? The ones you brew into tea?" She didn't need to elaborate, Manuela knew.

It wasn't the first time Byleth came to her for morning-after contraceptives. Manuela was the only one she trusted to administer them with the appropriate dosage and with an eye for the discretion these matters required. They had become close friends over the years because of that. Not just for the contraceptives, but because Manuela was someone Byleth could talk to without fear or judgment or gossip.

"So you had a different kind of fun last night. I was wondering where you snuck off to."

"I made him pull out," Byleth was to the point, "but I want to be sure. I--he-- _ we  _ don't need a scandal on our hands."

Manuela nodded in understanding and began going through her shelves and cabinets to find the right combination of herbs needed. "If you don't mind me asking, who was he? Anyone I know?"

Byleth frowned. "I don't feel comfortable saying out loud. It's for his and my sake."

She hummed in understanding. "So this isn't like the night you spent with Catherine and Shamir?"

"...No. I can't give you a name. Not right now."

Manuela had pulled down all the necessary ingredients and began dropping pinches of some of them into a mortar. The rest, she arranged on a linen square. "I see. Well, did you at least enjoy yourself? Please tell me this mystery man wasn't disappointing."

"He was good, circumstances given. Inexperienced, but eager to learn and please. He...ah...he has a nice dick--pretty--as far as they go."

"Good! Our Archbishop only deserves the best." Manuela teased, crushing the herbs she threw into the mortar with the pestle. "Will you be  _ seeing _ him again?"

"I...I don't know."

"Why not?" Manuela was grabbing pinches of the ground herbs from her mortar and dropped them onto the linen square with the other whole herbs. She then fashioned a sachet with it using a bit of twine, filled the kettle from the pitcher, and placed it on the fire.

"I guess I'm scared." Byleth didn't know how else to describe it but fear.

"What of, Dear? You can tell Manuela." She placed a clean mug in front of Byleth, dropped the prepared sachet inside, and went to fetch the jar of honey from her cabinet. The honey was an unnecessary ingredient, Byleth knew from her first time drinking Manuela's  _ special _ tea. But, it helped make it more palatable. 

"He told me he loved me, that he wants to marry me. And I got scared because I don't know what I want. I enjoy his company, sure. But is that all it is? Do I just want him there because it feels familiar and safe to have him there? Because I don't know what will happen when he's gone?"

She came over with the kettle, and poured some of the steaming water into the mug. "Give it a moment, Dear. Let it cool."

Byleth spooned a bit of the honey into her mug. She wrapped her hands around it, not minding the slight burn that scorched her skin. "I'm just so scared that I'm going to say yes, and we're going to get married, but then he goes off to war and leaves me behind because I'm the Archbishop now and  _ can't  _ be at his side during battle. And then he'll be cut down by some enemy force and I'll have to endure the pain of losing him and the guilt because I wasn't there to save him."

_ I've had to watch him die so many times. I don't think my heart could handle him dying and being beyond the realm of my Divine Pulse. _

"It should be fine now."

She removed the sachet from the mug using her spoon and took a deep gulp of it. The flavor was not pleasant, but she did well to keep the grimace from her face. "And my mother died in childbirth, too. So I'm left wondering, what if I die giving birth to our child? I don't want to force him to grieve me like that while raising our child on his own."

_ I have already died on him once, and I don't want to do that to him again. _

Manuela had begun brewing her own tea--something more conventional than what Byleth was sipping on. It smelled like a mint-lavender blend. "If you don't mind my input, it sounds to me like you care for this man a great deal, but you're so consumed with the potential pain of losing him," the way her tongue rolled over the words made it abundantly clear that Manuela had put the pieces together and knew exactly who they were speaking of, "I can't tell you what will happen in the future. He  _ may _ die on the battlefield a year into your marriage. You  _ may _ die in your birthing bed, leaving him a widower with a newborn babe to raise on his own. But you may also live a long happy life together, with many children and grandchildren to fill your home and an abundance of love between the both of you. You will never have to live through the heartbreak of losing him if you don't take a chance, but you'll also be missing out on the potential of happiness with him."

Byleth took another long gulp of the tea.

* * *

Breakfast was brought up to Byleth's chambers after her visit with Manuela. She had asked that an extra serving be brought up for Annette, and she was to be invited up. It was going to be an uncomfortable conversation after earlier, this she knew, but she wasn't about to blow Annette off, either. 

While she waited, Byleth stripped the bed linens and bunched them in a pile at the foot of the bed. She had asked some attendants to bring her a new set of sheets. The old ones got ruined; she offered no explanation. 

Shortly after, Annette had made her way into the chambers, pale as a sheet as she cautiously poked her head through the doors. 

"Dimitri isn't here, is he?"

"No, he left to prepare for his return trip to Fhirdiad."

"Okay, good," her chipper disposition returned, and she came into the room proper for breakfast, "I enjoy his company well enough, I just don't think I could look at him so soon after seeing him like  _ that _ this morning."

"About that," Byleth poured Annette a cup of tea, "we would both be grateful if you didn't tell anyone that you know about us. He's in a delicate position with being so recently named King, so the rumor mill would only hurt him."

Annette helped herself to some pastries and fresh fruit. "Not a problem, Professor, my lips are sealed! Though, I feel like you should know that most of us already know about the two of you. Or, we had our suspicions."

Byleth set her mouth in a hard line and considered what to say. 

"Suspicions?"

"Yeah, just that you two were always sneaking off together once he started getting better. We figured it was to get work done, but there was always a thought that you were sneaking off for  _ alone time _ ." She wiggled her eyebrows playfully at the implications. 

"I'm assuming you didn't ask to meet with me to inquire about how long Dimitri and I have been... _ fraternizing _ ."

Annette took a bite of one of her pastries and sipped her tea. Her eyes were drifting around the room, no doubt buying herself enough time to consider what she wanted to say. "Felix and I are getting married. He asked me a few weeks ago, but we chose to keep it quiet for a while."

"Congratulations. I'm happy for you both."

"Thank you, Professor, that means a lot. We were talking, and we're probably going to hold the wedding at Castle Fraldarius. We--well,  _ I _ was hoping you would perform the ceremony. Felix said he didn't care who did it, which is so typically Felix."

Annette continued babbling on happily, talking about who she wanted her bridesmaids to be, what sort of desserts she wanted for the reception, floral arrangements, etc. 

After a certain point, Byleth was no longer able to focus and was only nodding along to appear active in the conversation in order to spare Annette's feelings. Her own thoughts were too consumed about her conversation with Manuela from earlier, Dimitri's proposition, Jeralt's ring in her jewelry box, which she couldn't help but stare at whenever Annette would take her eyes off her to nibble more pastry or sip more tea. 

* * *

Dimitri was in his old Academy room when Byleth finally found him. 

The day had been cold, and she wrapped herself in thick furs to keep warm. Her attendants had encouraged her to wear the headdress, but something about that felt too formal when she was paying Dimitri a social call. Especially after how he had seen her the night prior. Still, she wore it in an effort to please them.

She knocked twice, and within seconds, he was opening the door. 

Before saying anything, he peered down the hall. Once he was sure they were alone, he cupped her face in both his hands, thumbs grazing her cheeks. "Is this alright?" He was asking about the touch, but it was more than that. Byleth knew.

She nodded.

Dimitri smiled briefly and brought himself to her for a kiss. 

Byleth stepped into the room and he shut the door behind her. It felt smaller than she remembered, somehow. Or perhaps he was just larger and took up more space. Dimitri gestured towards the bed, offering her the only seat that wasn't currently occupied with a sack he had been filling up prior to her visit. 

He went back to his packing but continuously would pause to look at her. It wasn't lustful, this much she knew. He wanted her to speak. To tell him that she had thought of his proposition in the last few hours and had an answer for him.

"I haven't decided yet, Dimitri," Byleth said, "but I also wanted you to know that I don't regret last night. I enjoyed that time with you, and you're someone I care deeply for."

"I must apologize," Dimitri had stopped packing entirely, and in a few long strides, he was sitting beside her on the bed, "I shouldn't have suggested marriage to you like that. It was sudden and unfair to you. I...I did mean every word of what I said, however. I love you, and it would devastate me to put you in a situation you don't wish to be in."

"Can I give you my answer in Fhirdiad? At your coronation?"

Dimitri nodded, taking one of her hands in his. "Of course."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended up dividing this chapter into two chapters because it probably would have wound up around 8k if I didn't. So, this will end up being a little longer than I anticipated.
> 
> Warnings for this chapter include temporary character death and a lot of sexy bits (which includes some biting). 
> 
> [You can find me on Twitter (I do art of Dimitri sometimes).](https://twitter.com/QueenOfThisDick)

For the week leading up to her departure for Fhirdiad, Byleth was overburdened. With her new work, with the loneliness of having to watch everyone else leave to begin new lives together, trying to make sense of what she felt for Dimitri.

She had meant it when she told him she would have an answer for him in two weeks' time, and she was determined to give him one. But nothing she did made it an easy decision. Worst still was that she missed him. She missed riding with him so early in the morning that the sun had yet to burn off the fog. She missed shared meals, and training, and the way his kisses tasted, and how his hands felt on her skin. 

Goddess, she missed the sex, even if he was all nerves and came sooner than she would have liked.

Byleth had talked to Manuela about it again because Manuela was the only person she trusted with this. This longing, it didn't feel natural, but Manuela hummed a tune while stirring honey into her tea and insisted "It sounds like you're in love, Dear."

When Manuela wasn't of any help, she sought Dorothea.

They had gone for a stroll through the grounds, thanking the Goddess for the rare warm afternoon so late into Wyvern Moon. Byleth hadn't told her why she wanted to speak, only that it was something that had been troubling her and maybe Dorothea could help. She had been careful to limit the details; Byleth trusted Dorothea enough, but the fewer people who knew about Dimitri’s offer of marriage, the better.

Despite the warmth of the afternoon sun, Dorothea was still bundled up. Byleth too wore some furs at Seteth's urging-- couldn't have the Archbishop catching her death before the King's coronation-- but she had begun to shed some of those layers. 

"You're planning on moving to Faerghus full time to be close to Ingrid, I hear." She asked, striking up a conversation.

Dorothea twirled a lock of hair around her finger thoughtfully. "Yes. She's going to Fhirdiad to serve as a knight for His Majesty, and I thought I could audition for the Royal Opera House. It would be like a fairy tale, don't you agree? A songstress and her knight?"

Byleth nodded. It was a sweet story, exactly what both of them deserved after the war. But it didn't satiate her curiosity or help answer the questions she had for herself at all. "How did you know you wanted to be with Ingrid, if you don't mind me asking?"

_ An arrow goes flying. Ingrid falls off her pegasus, injured, but alive. Dorothea scoops her up in a frenzy. Panic is etched in her expression, but she tries to conceal it as she brushes the hair from Ingrid's face. "I have you now, my Sweet, don't worry your pretty head," she coos.  _

_ A blast of meteor erupts from her outstretched hand, striking the archer down where he stood.  _

_ She doesn't notice Ingrid's gaze on the man with the sword behind them, nor hear his footsteps as he prepares to strike. _

"--and I suppose it was the closeness and how gentle she was the ultimately drew me to her."

* * *

Byleth’s distraught wandering led her to the dining hall eventually. She was weary and took a seat at one of the long tables. 

It was still between meal services, so the kitchen staff gave her odd looks. Especially because she was Archbishop, she figured. She didn’t care though, continuing to trace patterns into the knotty wood surface with her fingernail.

“Ah, Professor!”

Byleth looked up and noticed Ashe approaching. He was wearing a stained apron and a gentle smile when he approached. “Can I sit with you a moment?”

She gestured towards the seat across from her. 

Ashe wiped his hands and took a seat. “What brings you to the dining hall at this time?”

“I was just walking the grounds and came in for a break. You?”

He laughed and looked down at his apron. “Dedue and I were trying a new recipe.”

Her head swiveled around in search of Dedue. She had thought he would have gone to Fhirdiad with the others and hadn’t expected him to still be at Garreg Mach. “Oh? He didn’t leave with Dimitri?”

“No,” Ashe shook his head for emphasis, “he’s in the greenhouse right now, harvesting the last of the tomatoes before the chill gets too bad and they turn. We were thinking of turning them into a spicy tomato jam.”

“Really? I would have thought he would have gone to the capital to continue to serve as Dimitri’s retainer.”

Ashe’s lips set into a thin line.

_ Before Dedue has a chance to block with his shield, a mage has a spell prepared in their palm. The incantations and proper form are complete; it only needs to be released. _

_ Ashe sees this and, harried, pulls an arrow from his quiver and lines up the shot at the mage.  _

_ It misses. _

_ He considers drawing another, but there is no time, Dedue cannot get away. Ashe howls his name. _

_ The mage’s target changes, and with no time left to dodge. _

“I...I think I’m going to help Dedue in the greenhouse. It was nice speaking with you, Professor!”

* * *

Nothing Byleth did, and no one she spoke to satisfied her need for clarity. She ended up retiring to her chambers, telling Seteth that she felt fatigued and needed to rest; no meals needed to be brought to her. 

She rushed into the bedroom proper and shut the doors behind her, skirts whirling around her legs in a frenzy. Byleth pressed her shoulder blades into the wood of the door, surveying the room as if she would find what she was looking for. 

The only thing that caught her eye was the poleyn on her vanity, the  _ fucking  _ poleyn that made no sense and made her think of Dimitri whenever she looked at it. 

Dimitri. Dimitri. Dimi--

_ Byleth doesn't notice the black mage readying a spell while she's engaged in combat with a swordsman. She doesn't hear the incantation, only sees the blast coming at her after it's too late to get-- _

_ \--Dimitri leaps before her and takes her in his arms, absorbing the full force of the impact. He manages a weak, blood-stained smile at her, reaching out for her face as the light fades from his eye.  _

* * *

_ Enemy forces surround the two of them. Dimitri's grip tightens on his lance. _

_ Byleth swallows hard. _

_ "I'll distract them." He says, resolute. His jaw is set in a hard line, making him look ten years older. "Run." _

_ "I can't do that, Dimitri. I can't leave you here to die." _

_ "Run." He commands, voice raspy and harsh, already leaping towards the group, drawing their attention. _

_ She doesn't see him go down, but the tears still come. _

* * *

_ Edelgard, twisted and horrifying, aims an attack at Dimitri. He's charging up the stairs to her, lance in hand, unaware. _

_ Byleth commands him to stop and take cover, but he does not hear her. He continues, already so injured from battle, but determined to finish this. _

_ Her spell hits him in the chest. Dimitri goes tumbling down the stairs, snapping his neck on the way down. _

_ Dead. _

_ Whose screaming is that? Whose sobs?  _

_ Who is cradling his corpse against her chest, and brushing his hair out of his face, and kissing his cheeks and forehead, and promising to fix this because only she can? _

_ Who is using the Divine Pulse? _

* * *

Byleth snapped back to reality, standing at her vanity. She snatched up the poleyn and pressed it against her chest. Tears were spilling. Fuck, she cried more the last several months than she had in her entire lifetime. 

The jewelry box was open, though she hadn’t quite recalled when she had last been in it.

Jeralt's ring winked at her in the firelight, drawing her attention in a way that she had been avoiding. Byleth picked it up, observing it in her palm. 

_ So, you've made your decision, Kid? _

She imagined Jeralt there before her, watching her cry as she held her mother’s ring. The thought brought her comfort in a strange sort of way, how his warm eyes would have said more than his words ever would have. How he would have been there to offer her assistance in this, the biggest choice of her life.

Byleth mopped the tears off her face with the heel of her hand and looked down at the ring again.

_ I have. _

* * *

Fhirdiad was cold this time of year, colder than Garreg Mach. Byleth had wished she packed more furs, more clothes. She wanted to snuggle up in a bunch of layers with a cup of tea and next to a roaring fire. 

The guardsmen at the gate of Castle Blaiddyd assured her that there would be fires aplenty inside to warm the guests. 

Byleth and her attendant were shown to her chambers by a serving girl about five or so years younger than her. She chatted happily about how exciting this was, hosting the Archbishop in the Castle, and everyone was so happy to see His Majesty officially crowned, and--

\--Byleth interrupted to ask where he was. 

The girl paled at the lack of formality she had paid, having used his name as opposed to titles. She recovered quickly, stating that he was very busy with preparations for his coronation, but he would be taking his dinner with the guests, for those who wished to see him prior to the festivities. 

She was made comfortable in her chambers, which was a smartly decorated bedroom with an ensuite bath. Her attendant lit a fire in the hearth and helped her out of her travel clothes; she still had yet to grow used to people doing things for her when she was capable of doing them herself. Then, Byleth headed down to the drawing-room where the others were convening after dismissing her for the night. 

Sylvain and Mercedes were in the drawing-room when Byleth arrived. They were sitting on a chaise lounge, hand in hand with him whispering something in her ear that had colored her face crimson. Mercedes had noticed her before Sylvain, though Byleth suspected he just didn't care if she saw. 

"Oh, hello, Professor," Mercedes said, pulling her hand from his and setting it in her lap, "how was your trip?"

"Well enough. Too many people fussing over me. How did telling your father of your engagement go?"

Sylvain, now engaged in the conversation, rubbed the back of his neck anxiously and shot her a queasy smile. "As well as to be expected. He lectured me on taking too long to do it because we need to make him a bunch of little Gautier heirs." He hadn't rolled his eyes, but the way he said the last part made it abundantly clear that he had wanted to.

There was some more small talk. Mostly about plans for their own wedding. Mercedes wanted to have it at Garreg Mach, and like Annette, asked if Byleth could perform the ceremony. Of course, she could, permitting there was space in her quickly filling schedule. 

At a natural dip in conversation, a servant entered the drawing-room. "Lord Gautier? His Majesty would like to have a word with you in his study."

Sylvain clapped his hands over his thighs and groaned as he sat up. He placed a kiss on Mercedes' temple and rose. "Well, shouldn't keep him waiting. You ladies don't get up to too much trouble while I'm gone."

* * *

After everyone arrived, they decided to walk the grounds of Castle Blaiddyd before dinner; Felix was restless and didn't want to stay inside sipping tea and eating biscuits. Byleth's attendant went back to her chambers to fetch her furs for the walk. 

As lovely as it was, she wanted to speak with Dimitri privately, and given she had seen neither hide nor hair of him since her arrival, she was beginning to feel anxious. 

Sylvain joined them, and shortly after, dinner was called. 

They were led to the dining room, which was adorned with the Blaiddyd lion on tapestries. Places were already set for them, and each was led to their respective spots by the servants. Byleth was situated at the head of the table, opposite of where Dimitri would be seated once he arrived.

The wine was poured into their glasses, and the serving staff was coming around with a soup, which seemed to be an onion gratin. Before everyone had been served, Dimitri came in through the double doors, offering up an apology for his tardiness on his way to his chair.

The dinner was fine. They reminisced about the past, about times before the war. They talked of the future and how sad it was that duty was pulling them all in different directions. 

Dimitri was watching her most of the meal, between bites of food, over his glasses of wine and water. Unafraid. He was studying her like he would an adversary, trying to predict what her next course of action would be. 

During the dessert course, Byleth chose to excuse herself. She asked Dimitri if he could spare a word privately to discuss the morning's coronation, which he agreed to, instructing one of the servants to show her to his study and he would meet her there. 

As she was getting ready to show herself out, Sylvain sprang to his feet and pulled her chair out for her. "Don't ever say I never did anything for you." He whispered, dropping low enough that she was sure only they would hear. 

Byleth started to question him, but Sylvain's expression made her reconsider. "You'll see soon enough," he whispered again.

The servant Dimitri had instructed led her up to the second floor, past the guest rooms, and into the Royal suites. They arrived at the King's suites, which consisted of his study, bedroom, and an ensuite bath connected to the Queen’s suites and bedrooms for any other members of the royal family by a secluded hallway that was guarded at all times. Byleth was instructed to make herself comfortable; there was a decanter of brandy on the sideboard in the study that His Majesty hardly touched if she wanted refreshment while she waited. 

Left alone, Byleth took a seat on the armchair opposite his desk, neglecting the decanter, and waited. 

* * *

When Dimitri arrived, he shut the door behind him. His gaze was unmistakably trained on her, but he did his best to hide it. He took a seat on the corner of his desk, looking so informal, hardly the king he would officially be crowned as in the morning.

"You wished to speak?" It both was and was not a question in equal measures, his way of asking if she had reached a decision without putting too much pressure on her. His hands were folded between his knees, though he anxiously ran his thumbs down the seams in his pants.

Byleth swallowed down the lump in her throat and stood. 

"Yes. I have reached a decision. About your proposition to me."

Dimitri's posture stiffened. "You have." Like before, it was not a question.

Byleth nodded, taking a couple of drawn-out steps toward him. "I will marry you, Dimitri."

Whatever composure Dimitri had was shed when he heard those words. His eye had gone wide in disbelief while he struggled to process what she had said. "You mean--"

"--Yes. I love you, too," she was nearly on him now, cupping his face in both her hands; she couldn’t resist the temptation of touching him now that she had gotten it off her chest, "when you said that you were denying yourself your feelings during the war, I think it was the same for me. But in my case, it was because I've watched you die so many times that I didn't believe I could handle loving you and losing you for good. In a way, I suppose denying myself what I felt was still losing you. So yes, I love you, Dimitri. I want to marry you."

Dimitri leaned into her, a smile spreading across his face as he kissed her sweetly on the lips once. Twice. Half a dozen times. His hands were snaking up her back and becoming tangled in her hair. 

“I love you too, Byleth.”

Their first time, Dimitri had been hesitant. He was nervous, waiting for direction from her at every turn. This was different. He kissed her more boldly, even using his tongue, albeit a bit shyly. She could still see how he checked her, making sure that he was doing things in the right way, but he had come a long way from the man who could hardly maintain eye contact their first time.

He was touching her with trembling hands, running courses along her spine, up and down her sides, grazing her breasts through the fabric of her dress. Every time he did, he would look to her, making sure every caress was wanted in a similar fashion to how she had done their first night together.

Dimitri shifted positions, spinning the pair of them around so that she was pinned against the desk now. Byleth let him lead her through the motions, though she had been considering the same.

With ease, he picked her up and sat her on the edge of the desk. When he knelt down before her, head positioned between her legs, Byleth got the picture and began hiking the skirt of her dress up. She didn’t know where Dimitri had found this confidence, but she wasn’t of a mind to ask when he slipped a hand up her calf.

Dimitri slipped her shoes off, kissed her left ankle. He trailed kisses up her calf, then hesitated at her knee. 

"Is something wrong?" She asked.

"You're wearing the poleyn I gave you." Dimitri was smiling as he danced his fingers over the engraving. 

"I thought it was appropriate, given the answer I intended to share with you."

He kissed her inner thigh, just above the knee. "Do you know why I gave it to you?"

Byleth shrugged. "It was my birthday? Because my old one was dented?"

Two more kisses up her inner thigh. "Because I would always be there to protect you, if not literally, then symbolically." Dimitri bit into her thigh, sending a jolt of pain rocketing through her core. She moaned into her pursed lips, throwing her head back and savoring how the pain and pleasure mixed. 

"Did I hurt you? Do you want me to stop?" He was concerned, visibly so. Dimitri looked at the mark he left on her skin and frowned. "I hadn't meant to break the skin."

"It's okay, Dimitri," Byleth pushed his hair back, giving her a better look at his handsome face, "I want you to continue."

He continued with renewed vigor. Starting with more kisses, he climbed up her thighs, alternating between the two, but he soon switched over to biting again. The feel of his teeth on her, sinking into her, it was addictive. 

Dimitri's thumbs hooked around her underwear. He looked up at her, asking her permission to continue with a boyish expression that conveyed all the uncertainty he wasn't saying. 

Byleth nodded.

The underwear came off, and Dimitri got to work. 

She didn't know where he had learned such things, but she also didn't think to ask while he was lapping at her clit and pumping his middle finger in and out of her. He slipped a second finger in.

"Fuck,  _ Dimitri _ ." Byleth's words were breathy, punctuated with a moan. He clearly hadn't much experience in oral, but he made up for it with his fingers inside her and the sheer eroticism of the fact that it was on his desk and with their friends downstairs. 

She was lying on the desk now, back arched and hips gyrating against his tongue. When did he learn to do these things? Who did she owe a thank you for teaching him?

"It feels good?"

" _ Yes _ ." Byleth was already working on taking her dress off. This time, she had been smart and chose one with laces instead of buttons; there was less of a chance for him to ruin it like he had the last one. 

While she did, he was busy as ever, alternating between his fingers and his tongue inside her. Or, lapping at her swollen clit and running the pad of his thumb on it in concentrated circles. Dimitri was finding a good technique; she hadn’t bothered to censor her moans when the waves of pleasure surfaced.

Byleth tossed the dress on the floor unceremoniously. She wouldn't be needing it for the remainder of the night if their current situation was any indication. 

Dimitri stood and looked over her. He ran a hand up her stomach, kneading her breast when he got to it. Byleth rose a hand to his wrist to remind him to be gentle, but he remembered from last time. Then, he leaned over her, kissing her stomach, each breast, getting a bit overzealous with his love bites on the right, her collarbone, and all over her neck, breaking the skin again and again. With each one, he would apologize, insisting that they could stop if she wanted. 

She didn't want to stop. With him, she liked a bit of pain. 

Byleth writhed on the desk. She could feel him already, harder than ever and wanting for her. But, he was still very clothed. With one of her hands, she trailed up his thigh, running her fingertips into the waistband of his pants, taunting him with contact.

"Make love to me."

For all he was doing with his mouth and fingers only moments prior, Dimitri's face colored like a school girl's upon seeing her crush. He looked elsewhere momentarily, then back at her, meeting her with a gaze wrought with his unbidden desire. "Here?"

"I don't see why not."

Dimitri undressed. Slowly. From nerves, Byleth figured. She didn't know how many partners he had before her, but she could tell that all of this still felt new to him. Even so, she enjoyed it when he went slow. Slow to undoing buttons, letting her savor the look of his battle-scarred chest, how his body tapered in at his narrow waist and hips. Goddess, he was like art, a sculpture made of flesh and bone. 

Done away with his pants, Dimitri stood before her. His hands were braced on either side of the desk, flanking her hips. He had never done it like this before, judging by the crimson blush descending all the way to his chest. 

Byleth maneuvered to the edge of the desk and spread her legs around him invitingly. Her finger teased her clit while she waited. Already, she was soaking wet and ready for him. 

He was in her within seconds. 

Dimitri inhaled sharply, taking time to grow used to being the one to put the effort in. 

Byleth ran a hand down his chest and stomach encouragingly. 

Then, he started thrusting into her. It was slow to begin. Soft, but good. Dimitri maintained eye contact, mouth slacked open and palms flat on the desk. Byleth cinched her legs around his waist, wanting more. Wanting him deeper. 

He picked up speed and intensity. Dimitri was using the desk for leverage, getting a harder thrust with each go. His thrusts were causing the desk drawers to slide open and slam shut, though none of that mattered. All that mattered was Dimitri.

_ Fuck _ .

Byleth moaned, unafraid of who might hear. They were going to get married, and they loved each other, and Four Saints, he felt good. Her mind was a haze, only filled with thoughts of him, how she wanted to kiss him, how he was so hard and hitting just the right spot.

“Oh Goddess...Dimitri…”

Dimitri's elbows buckled. He was on top of her,  _ inside _ her. His hot breath crept down her neck and his moaning filled her ear. He felt so good. So, so good. 

“By...Byleth…”

Byleth clawed into his back, feeling her orgasm approach. She kissed him, muffling her repetition of his name into his lips as it washed over her.

Shortly after, Dimitri finished. He had remembered to pull out without the need of instruction, but he still came on her stomach. When that realization hit him, he hurried off to his bed chambers in the adjoining room to fetch a towel to clean her off with. Byleth told him that she hadn't minded; she knew it was going to get messy. 

They kissed more. On the desk. As he carried her into the bed-chamber. Between each profession of love. In bed. She had been tempted to ask him if he was good for a second round, but he was so content in her arms, kissing whichever part of her was closest and planning for their future. 

When Byleth finally fell asleep, sometime after Dimitri had, it was, for the first time in years, without any doubts or reservations. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're dealing with Byleth's mental health this chapter, but otherwise, pretty clean. Just some suggestive talk.

Sometime during the middle of the night, Byleth woke suddenly. While she didn’t remember the nightmare, she was acutely aware of the panic that coursed through her veins. She didn’t need to remember them to know that they were war nightmares, the sort where she relived all the times her friends and allies died, but was stricken powerless to do anything about it. 

She wrapped the blankets around herself tighter, feeling cold from the sweat that drenched her body. Dried tears had streaked her face, making her eyes crusty and sore. 

Beside her, Dimitri stirred, then, when he grappled for her and found she wasn't lying beside him like before, woke. He looked around the room briefly before settling on her sitting upright in bed. His mouth set in a frown.

"Is something wrong?" Dimitri's voice was like gravel due to sleep.

Byleth shook her head; she didn't want to burden him with her troubles. 

Dimitri was resolute and, despite the early hour and his need for sleep, sat up as well and placed a hand on hers. "You can tell me what's wrong. I'm here for you in everything."

She looked down at the blankets in her lap. "Just nightmares. I...I can't remember them, but I suppose it's kind of like yours. The panic feeling and not wanting to sleep because you don't want to feel this way."

He nodded and opened his arms to her. "Come here. I know it won't make the feeling go away, but I can be there for you while you recover."

Part of Byleth had wanted to argue. She was the Archbishop--former Commander of his armies; he shouldn't have to concern himself with her tears and nightmares. Yet, he was so warm, and she wanted nothing more than to feel safe and in his arms. Byleth eventually relented, curling against his chest with her ear pressed to the spot where his heartbeat was loudest. 

For all the things Dimitri was to the outside world, at that moment, he was tender and soft for her. His arms were strong around her, cradling against him firmly, though not enough that she felt uncomfortable. He talked to her, about nothing, mostly. What being married would be like and how happy they would be. Already, he was thinking of names for their children. Or, more precisely, ruling names out. He didn't want to name them for the dead, he said because it would just be playing into their voices and putting that added weight onto the children. 

Byleth couldn't muster up much in the way of conversation, but Dimitri being there, talking to her and distracting her from how she felt like she was trembling all over and expecting something terrible to happen, it helped. When she was too tired to focus on his words, she found comfort in the sound of his heart beating softly in his chest.

Eventually, she fell back asleep.

* * *

Byleth woke first, though Dimitri was quick to rise when he felt a shift from her. He smiled weakly at her and planted a sloppy kiss on her lips. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Byleth returned the kiss, "where did you learn to do those things from last night? Those things with your mouth?"

Dimitri snorted at her expediency with getting to the point, amused, "Sylvain and Mercedes."

"I figured Sylvain; you asked to meet with him last night, and during dinner, he said some things that made me think he was responsible. But, Mercedes?"

"We were talking about relations with Sreng last night," Dimitri admitted while he absently played with a stray lock of her hair, "I actually asked them when they arrived in Fhirdiad. Just in case your answer was yes. I...I don't want to continue to disappoint you in intimate matters and asked them if there were things I could do to satisfy you."

"You never disappointed me, Dimitri," Byleth said, "but I appreciate it. I liked the things you did with your mouth."

Dimitri's face went serious, the kind of look he got when he was working over strategies and nothing seemed right to him. He tucked a stray bit of hair behind her ear. "How are you feeling? Still shaken up from the nightmare?"

"A bit. Nothing I can't suck up and deal with though."

He hummed in understanding. 

"Truth be told, I'm a little worried about children now."

"Why? You can talk to me about these things."

"I don't know," Byleth looked elsewhere, afraid to meet his gaze, "I suppose I'm scared because my mother died in childbirth, so I have no real idea of what a good mother is. I have no one I can ask about pregnancy and raising children."

"I suppose I feel similarly. I...want children with you, don't get me wrong, but I'm concerned that the darkness in me will surface and I'll end up being a bad father. I'm not sure how to balance a child's needs with my own unique needs."

"These are things we'll have to figure out together, I guess. Be each other's support while we figure out this parenthood thing."

The prospect put a weak smile on Dimitri's face. "Of course. When we're ready for children, we'll work together to be the best parents we can be."

Byleth snuggled against Dimitri. She knew it was his favorite part of their time together, holding each other, playing with each other's hair, tracing scars. It was something she had taken for granted before him, but she was beginning to see the appeal of having the warmth of someone she cared about cascading across her like that.

"We have to get out of bed." He said eventually, lacking motivation.

"You sound like Linhardt," She looked through the open door that led into his study, at the heap of clothes from the night before, "wait here, I have something for you."

Dimitri watched her as she got out of bed and headed into his study. He didn't say anything as she rifled through her dress, cursing audibly when she couldn't find the pockets on the damn thing, but she could feel his eyes on her all the same.

She climbed back into the bed with him, then, snatching up his left hand, attempted to slide it onto his ring finger, but found it much too large for the small ring. She grumbled a curse to herself for having not figured that her mother’s ring would have been too small for him. Then, she regrouped and tried his pinky finger. The ring, luckily, slid on.

"What is--oh, you're, uh…"

"We're already planning on getting married, I thought, why not make it official?"

Dimitri looked at the ring, toying with it with his thumb. His face was awash with shock, but a pleasant sort of shock that told her he wanted this surprise.

"I was hoping to be the one to propose to you officially." He laughed a little, cupping his face in his hand. 

"You can," Byleth stated simply, "I just wanted to see you sitting on your throne in your crown today with my mother's ring on your finger."

Dimitri kissed her. "Then I will wear it proudly."

* * *

After some more pillow talk and plenty more kisses, Byleth eventually worked up the will to pull herself from his bed and head back to her chambers. When she arrived, her attendant was on her within seconds, inquiring about where she had gone, and why she was in the previous night's dress with her hair tousled so? Byleth dodged those questions, asking to have a bath drawn with each one. Each question was met with  _ I would like a bath, please _ . And when her attendant did not get the hint that she wished to be left alone, she headed into the ensuite to begin drawing it herself. 

Her attendant followed her into the bathroom, taking her dress away when she removed it. 

"Lady Byleth! Those marks all over your chest and legs!"

Byleth looked down, seeing now that Dimitri's gratuitous love bites had begun to turn purple in places. The ones that had bled started to scab. She ran her index finger over one of the ones on her thigh curiously. "They are nothing to trouble yourself with. I'm going to have my bath now, thank you," and shooed the girl out. 

She sank into the water, allowing herself to be enveloped in it completely. For a time, she soaked in it, enjoying the hot water and scented oils she had added. Byleth massaged one of the bruises on her thigh, wincing a little as the pain bloomed. Later, she would have to teach Dimitri how to temper his strength in bed; she didn't need her attendants fussing over her and assuming she had been injured because her lover had gotten a bit overzealous in bed. 

While she was rinsing the soaps out of her hair, there was a knock at the bathroom door. "Lady Byleth?" 

Seteth.

"I'm in the bath right now." She said, making a splashing noise to indicate as much. 

"We need to talk. Urgently."

Byleth sunk into the water. She knew what he wanted to talk about, and with him on the other side of the door, there was no hope of avoiding it. She finished washing up and climbed out of the bath. After, she wrapped herself in one of the towels. 

"What is it, Seteth?" She asked, opening the door.

Seteth, upon seeing her in scant but a towel, turned away to face the bed in respect. "Where were you last night? You had us all worried." His voice was stern, but almost relieved. 

"Do you really want to know, Seteth?"

"I would like to know what was so important that you felt the need to refrain from telling your attendant or myself where you were going, yes."

Byleth folded her arms over her chest. "If you must know, I accompanied His Majesty to his study, where he fucked me on his desk."

Seteth began coughing at the boldness of her words. She couldn't see his face, but she could imagine the expression he must have been wearing in perfect detail. For a man who was so skilled at keeping his feelings close to his chest, she knew, she  _ knew _ beyond a shadow of a doubt that her words had shocked him.

And worst yet was that she didn't know if she felt guilty or vindicated for it. 

"His Maj--Dimitri...asked for my hand in marriage at my coronation. I gave him my answer last night, which resulted in me spending the night in his chambers with him."

Seteth cleared his throat and tugged at the collar of his formal tunic. "Yes, well, you should have informed someone that you intended to spend the night with His Majesty. You are the Archbishop, Lady Byleth, and your absence without any word on your part is cause for concern. With your title, and now the fact that you are to be Queen Consort, there are people who might seek to do you harm."

"I understand, Seteth." Byleth said, agreeing only to end the conversation. 

"Thank you," He began heading for the door, "and Lady Byleth?"

"Yes?"

"Please try to cover the marks His Majesty left on you. It would be unbecoming of the Archbishop to perform a coronation with evidence of her nights' activities so brazenly on display."

Byleth finished getting ready for the coronation with the help of her attendant. She towel-dried her hair and brushed it, helped with all the tiny buttons lining the front of the dress that was chosen for the occasion, applying her makeup, and covering the bruises and bites the best she could using face powder. With the mantle on, they were hardly noticeable except for from certain angles. Then, she put on her headdress and made her way for the throne room. 

* * *

Morning light flooded into the throne room, illuminating all the guests in attendance. Byleth could pick out some faces from the crowd, Gilbert, Dedue, Ingrid, but everyone else was a faceless mass of people in the wake of her nerves. Seteth stood to her right, holding the crown for her while they waited for Dimitri.

She did know how long they had been standing at the dais, but the nerves of it all were bearing down on her. From having everyone staring at her, for the chance that one of them would notice the bruises and bites, for the anticipation of seeing Dimitri in his finery. Seteth promised to feed her the appropriate words to say when she anointed him, which helped a bit with the nerves.

Then, the brassy tones of the trumpets sounded off, signifying Dimitri’s arrival. The doors leading into the chamber opened, and a procession of guards walked in, followed by Dimitri. Her breath hitched, seeing him in the Blaiddyd blue with his ceremonial vestments. Briefly, he afforded her a secret smile. Then, he took his place at the base of the dais and knelt before her. 

Everything was like a blur to Byleth, repeating words at Seteth's instruction, Dimitri responding, then more words on her part. It was almost an out of body experience, like she was watching herself go through the motions, but was not an active participant in the whole affair. 

Yet, there was one point where she was repeating something Seteth had fed her about the will of the Goddess when she caught Dimitri staring up at her, gaze locked on a bit of her collarbone that must have avoided coverage. A part of her collarbone, she assumed, that he had bitten the night before. His tongue swiped along his bottom lip, garnering a throat clearing from Seteth.

_ Somewhere between picking out drapes for your future child's nursery and mentally plowing you so hard you wouldn't be able to walk right for a week. _

The rest of the coronation went on uneventfully. Dimitri sat upon the throne, and Byleth anointed and blessed him before handing him the orb and scepter. Then, he was crowned. Literally and officially.

King Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, first of his name, ruler of Faerghus and the recently unified Fodlan. 

There was some fanfare among those in attendance, but they were eventually asked to leave; the King requested a moment to himself in the throne room. Guards helped with ushering everyone out, guiding them along to the gardens and various parlor rooms where they could await music and refreshment.

Byleth, too, made to leave. She stepped down from the dais when the bulk of the guests had gone but was stopped at Dimitri's insistence.

"Lady Byleth, might I request a word before you join in on the celebrations?" He spoke those words as if he was smiling, though he kept his mouth thin and neutral, given Seteth was still present.

"Of course, Your Majesty." Her tone matched his.

Seteth showed himself out, but not before bowing ceremoniously at Dimitri and giving Byleth a look that pleaded with her to not engage in any more activities that would make him worry.

Once the doors shut, Byleth was on him. As she approached, his throne, intent on scooping him up for a secret kiss while they were alone, he raised a hand as if to tell her to stop. Whatever seriousness in his face that he held for Seteth's benefit had made way for something softer and gentle, something he only reserved for her. In a fluid motion, he was on a bent knee before her, hand searching through his garments for something while he said, "I promised you a proper proposal."

"You don't have to." She said though the butterflies in her belly were unmistakable.

"I want to." Dimitri found what he was looking for and presented it to her. The ring in his palm was silver, with small green stones framing a larger one. She didn't grab for it, knowing he would want to be the one to put it on her once he asked. "I...I spent the last week thinking about what I wanted to say to you if your answer had been yes. Thinking about  _ how _ I would ask you. I...when we met, I hadn't known how you would become the light in my darkness. You were there for me as my Professor, my Commander, my friend, and now my beloved, always a constant light throughout. I...I still hear the voices of the dead; I will for the rest of my life, I fear. But with you at my side, it's easier to live for myself and not for them. If you would have me as your husband, I would spend my days living for the both of us, filling your life with the love and support you have filled mine with."

Byleth didn't cry; she had shed enough tears on the way to this, on deciding if this was what she wanted. Still, a warmness spread through her chest, circulating throughout all of her body at the thought that he wanted her, that he saw beyond everything that she was or was not and still wanted to share his life with her. "You already know my answer."

Dimitri  _ was _ crying. "Can I hear you say it, though?"

She nodded and knelt down with him, a smile growing on her face. "Yes. I will marry you, Dimitri."

Once the ring was on her finger, Dimitri brought her closer, kissing her cheeks, her nose, her lips. Byleth tried to kiss him back, but he had already raked her in for a powerful hug, holding her tight against his chest as he continued to cry. 

"I have never been so happy." He said, stroking her hair. 

“Neither have I.” Her arms snaked around him, returning the hug.

Dimitri eventually released her, yet his hands were still on her shoulders. "I told my advisors this morning about our engagement. They want us married before years' end--"

"--So that we can get to making a baby right away." She said dryly. 

He snorted, "Well, it wasn't said like that, but yes," Dimitri paused, watching her carefully, "would years' end work for you? I know you're quite busy now."

"I think I could clear something in my schedule," her knees were starting to hurt, but she felt it would ruin the moment to tell him, "after all, I'm sure there will be a grand celebration here in Fhirdiad for His Majesty's birthday around then that I will be invited to."

Dimitri laughed, "Of course."

They both stood, taking unspoken signals from each other. Byleth was grateful for that. 

"You should go join the others; I have some work I need to attend to before I can."

Byleth nodded. 

He kissed her again, a bit more passionate than before. One of his hands drifted to her neck with the other resting on her hip. Her own were braced on his chest. 

When he pulled away, he thumbed one of the love bites he had given her. "I should have been more careful with you last night."

"We'll have plenty of time to teach you a little restraint on our honeymoon. But...uh...You may want to avoid Seteth. He knows what we were doing last night and was not pleased about the little  _ gifts  _ you left on me."

* * *

The celebration was to be expected. Throughout the day, she was circulated between the formal dining room and sitting rooms, or the castle grounds. Everyone wanted a moment of the Archbishop's time, to talk to her, shake her hands and congratulate her on the ascent to her position, or to compliment her on the coronation. Byleth didn't say much to these people, usually resigned to nodding and sipping a flute of something alcoholic in order to avoid further conversation.

On one such occasion, a dark-haired man barely a touch taller than she had caught her attention.

“Apologies, Lady Byleth, I don’t believe we’ve met.”

Byleth gave the man a confused look, mainly because she hadn’t known why he made it seem like they should have known one another. “I don’t believe we have.”

“My name is Boris, I am one of His Majesty’s advisors, though I am sure he had mentioned me to you before.”

Dimitri hadn’t, but given Byleth wasn’t in the mood to crush whatever this man assumed they had spoken of, she chose to humor him, “Ah, yes. The name escaped me. My apologies.”

“You are very busy with your duties as Archbishop and with the,” he looked around the gardens to see if anyone was eavesdropping, “the upcoming marriage.” 

She nodded, continuing the charade.

“We will have much to discuss later, about your duties as Queen Consort and how you will be serving His Majesty.”

“Serving his Majesty?” The phrasing had irritated Byleth, but she was doing her best to keep it from her tone; it was wise to not start arguments with her husband-to-be’s advisor, and at his coronation, no less.

“Yes. You will have certain duties that--”

“Pardon my intrusion. I need to speak with Lady Byleth privately.”

Dedue was standing at her side, arm dangling down towards her arm as if he would claim it so he could lead her away.

“Of course. We will speak again soon, Lady Byleth.” Boris bowed and walked off.

Dedue took her arm and led her off.

He led her through the gardens, silent for a time as he observed the flowers. She could see in his expression how he was considering their care, how  _ he  _ would have tended to them if it had been him instead of the gardeners the crown must have employed. He was smart like that and had the gentle sort of touch that these things necessitated.

"Thank you," Byleth said, cutting into the silence, "I was growing tired of speaking with everyone."

Dedue nodded. He still didn't speak, but he afforded her a slight smile as if to say that he understood.

They walked some more, now separated from each other, but still side by side. Dedue had something he wished to say, but was keeping close to his chest for one reason or another; she knew him well enough go recognize that expression on his face, the tension in his body and how he looked over at her occasionally and look like he was getting ready to speak, but change his mind and go back to observing the flowers.

Ten minutes of this went by before he finally worked up the will and said, "His Majesty offered me a post as a knight in his service." 

"That's wonderful, Dedue. Dimitri trusts you a great deal." She clapped her hands together happily.

Dedue hesitated. 

"I...refused."

Byleth stopped her pace. Dedue hadn't noticed right away, but when he had, he turned back to her. There was something behind his eyes that she couldn't place. "I thought you wanted to protect Dimitri." She wasn't mad at him for his refusal, just confused.

"I want the best for His Majesty, but Ashe and I have decided to open a restaurant together. I felt it improper to dedicate my life to His Majesty when I'm building a life with someone else."

She nodded. "Of course. You need to do whatever is best for both of you."

"Thank you for understanding. His Majesty was supportive as well when I told him."

"Of course. He cares about you and would want you to be happy."

Byleth returned to the festivities, as much as she wished to return to her chambers for the evening. She ate and drank sparingly, continued socializing in a wooden sort of way until she could find another escape. She managed another temporary escape with Ingrid, who had managed to pull her off to sample some of the treats being served on those silver platters. 

The guests were eventually invited to the ballroom for dancing after hours of drinking and merriment. Dimitri still hadn't joined the celebration, but Byleth expected that he was quite busy. Or, he was avoiding it entirely. She didn't dwell on it, instead, she was invited for a dance by Ashe (Dedue was still in the garden and Ashe wasn't going to pressure him into something that made him uncomfortable). They danced a minuet with the others, but Byleth rejected his offer for a waltz after and chose to linger by the walls and watch as Dorothea led Ingrid through the dance.

When the waltz finished, another song did not begin immediately. A barker joined the musicians, and with a booming voice, announced, "His Majesty, King Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd," and gestured for the double doors. 

Dimitri walked in purposefully, having shed some of his fine clothing for something a little less formal, but appropriate for the occasion all the same. He was not wearing his crown, though she supposed it didn't suit him much anyway. He stepped into the center of the room, guests parting to make way for him. For a moment, he searched the room, searching the faces of his guests until he settled on Byleth. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"I apologize for my lateness. Please, continue."

The music began again and the dancing resumed. Dimitri waited for the dance floor to fill once again before making his way to Byleth's place on the wall. Then, with a ceremonious, if reminiscent bow, he held his hand out to her, "May I have this dance, Archbishop?"

Byleth laughed a little, then took his hand, and he led her through a dance. 

Dimitri's gaze flitted between her face and his own feet; his hand in hers was a bit clammy, and the one pressed into the small of her back was a little more firm than necessary, but he led her well through the dance.

"I had some servants ask the others to meet us privately after this dance so we could announce the engagement to them," He whispered into her ear when she was close, "I felt it best to tell them before an official announcement was made."

Byleth nodded. 

* * *

After the dance concluded, Dimitri led Byleth to a secluded sitting room, where she suspected they were meeting with the others. She could see Ingrid and Dorothea ahead of them, arms linked. They were stealing fleeting kisses from each other the whole way.

Having witnessed them all die more times than she could count, it was nice to see them carving happiness out in the world.

They were the last to arrive. Everyone else was situated in chairs or couches. Sylvain was regarding a snifter full of something critically before shrugging and pouring it into a glass anyway. 

"What do you want with us?" Felix said, his words coming across as harsh, but it was obvious that he met no real malice in them.

Dimitri cleared his throat and tugged at his collar. Byleth was aware of his hand on her back now more than ever. His fingers were running courses up and down her spine as if he wanted to bring her comfort. She knew it was more for himself.

"We wished to tell you first before an official announcement was made--so you didn't have to hear about it through the rumor mill."

"Hear about what?" Ashe asked. 

Dimitri looked to Byleth. "Byleth and I are to be wed. By years' end, if my advisors are to have their way."

Sylvain slammed his recently drained glass down on the table, "About time! I was getting tired of watching you two make eyes at each other every time you were in the same room." Despite his obviously brash words, he wore a huge smile.

Even so, Dimitri had paled at the remark.

"What Sylvain means to say is we're all happy for the both of you." She may have been smiling, but there was a look behind her eyes, something reserved only for Sylvain that Byleth only managed to catch a flicker of before the conversation continued. 

"You're all invited, of course. And I'll make sure invitations are sent out as soon as an official date is picked."

More conversation continued. Annette was thrilled about the prospect of attending a royal wedding and was needling Felix in the ribs and insisting they needed to still decide on a date for their own wedding. Dedue had placed his hand subtly onto Ashe's while he asked what sort of menu they were thinking. 

Before talks had finished, Ingrid and Dorothea politely showed themselves out. They were very tired from the festivities and wanted to turn in for the night.

Everyone else eventually saw their way out as well. Some returned to the ballroom. Dedue and Ashe chose to walk the gardens of the castle some more. The sky was already turning shades of deep blue and purple, and most of the guests were likely to be leaving within a couple of hours. 

Dimitri didn't have a mind to entertain them much longer. When the others had left to either adjourn to their private chambers or continue to enjoy the festivities, Dimitri turned to her, a hint of a smile crossing his face.

"We have much to discuss." He phrased it like he meant political discussion, but his eye was trained on her exposed neck and collarbone, on the bites he gave her the previous night. 

"Should I inform Seteth that you don't intend on returning me to my chambers until morning?"

A pause. 

"That would be best."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.
> 
> Full disclosure, I just adopted another kitten (his name is Mars and he's a sweet little black cat), so while I'm trying to get the last few chapters of this out on schedule, he's an assertive little man who demands attention.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The only warning for this chapter is a bit of parental apprehension and mentions of death.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading and you can [find me on Twitter.](https://www.twitter.com/queenofthisdick)

Byleth ended up staying in Fhirdiad for a week longer than she had initially intended. With preparations for their wedding well underway, it was easier for her to lend her input from Castle Blaiddyd than her seat at Garreg Mach. Correspondence through letters was slow, and there was no guarantee that whatever she responded with would arrive in a timely manner. 

She didn't have to do much in the way of planning; there were wedding planners for that. But, they still wanted His Majesty's and Lady Byleth's opinions on things like the color of the floral arrangements, what food was to be served, which musicians were to be called in for the reception, etc. 

In addition, Dimitri had called several dressmakers from all across Fodlan to the castle to not only make Byleth's gown for the wedding, but also several dresses for her day-to-day needs. He wanted her to have clothes in Fhirdiad to cement it as a home for her in her mind. And if she had a closet full of clothes made only for her in the Queen's suites, she would always have that sense of home.

She was in the middle of a fitting with two dressmakers. The one making her wedding gown, a thin woman with strawberry blonde hair, was pinning lace to the incomplete dress she had already sewn in order to get an idea of how she wanted to attach it to the final product. Meanwhile, a jumpy man with his brown hair cropped short was struggling with getting proper measurements throughout all this. He was making her a proper riding dress because it was known that His Majesty enjoyed early morning rides throughout the countryside and would likely extend this passion to his bride.

Byleth felt something of a spectacle throughout, and not in a good way. She was standing on a raised platform, having pins occasionally prick her skin when one of the dressmakers bumped into the other. It all made her feel on display, being scrutinized, though through no fault of the dressmakers.

The blonde dressmaker pulled a pin from her mouth and fastened a swathe of lace to Byleth's hip, "Are you nervous for your wedding night? Going to bed with the King of Faerghus would definitely be nerve-wracking for me." 

Byleth shook her head. "It won't be our first night together."

The other dressmaker let out a low whistle of approval. "His Majesty is still young, I'm not surprised you wanted to _train_ him a bit before the big day," he tapped her arms, instructing her to raise them so he could get his measuring tape over her bust, "do you want me to make you something to _inspire_ him on the wedding night? I should have enough time after making your riding dress."

She paused a moment, "Could you come back tomorrow for a consultation? I would want to pay for it with my own money and keep it a surprise."

He nodded. "Of course, I’m known for my discretion."

* * *

The rest of Byleth's week went pretty uneventfully. Rides at dawn with Dimitri, then breakfast together. He worked through the rest of the day, so she was left to her own devices, either meeting with Seteth to discuss plans for the church, or with the wedding planners to give her opinions where they were likely to be ignored anyway. She took dinner by herself, or with Seteth and Flayn in the Queen's suites most of the time, though if Dimitri was available, they would eat together in his study. 

Her nights, however, were all Dimitri's.

Byleth had promised to teach him a bit of restraint, and she was determined to get that started before the wedding. It was simple, not letting him touch her while she rode him. Or guiding his hands over the curves of her body in a way that did not cause pain. Once, she bound his wrists to the bedpost using the flat sheets off the bed and took her pleasure of him that way; Dimitri favored that greatly, but they both agreed that it would be better with proper tools instead of the improvised ones they made do with. Once, she made a game of it, asking him to worship her like his Goddess. _That_ was his favorite. 

She had been conscious of warning Seteth when she made her way to Dimitri's suite every night, _don't wait up, I'll see you in the morning_. She wondered if he had grown tired of it, but she didn't bother to ask. 

Byleth hadn't said it, not aloud, but the prospect of motherhood was exciting and terrifying in equal measures, and the looming wedding only brought that to the forefront. She and Dimitri had talked about it a bit, over pillow talk when both their bodies were spent, but their minds were too awake for sleep. They both wanted this, a family together, but they were scared of what could go wrong. Byleth calmed herself over it the best she could by remembering Manuela's words about risks worth taking, but Dimitri didn't have that luxury. She did what she could for him, reassuring him that he would be a good father to their eventual children, but she supposed it was something he needed to work out for himself.

* * *

As much as Byleth would have loved to spend the time working through their collective reservations regarding parenthood, Garreg Mach needed her. Dimitri didn't want to see her go, even if it was only for a month. He promised to write every day, which was something she told him he didn't need to do. But, he insisted.

By the time she had made it back to the monastery, she had a letter waiting for her on her vanity. Byleth was weary from travel and wanted a bath, so she brought the letter with her to read while she soaked in the tub.

The first part was what Byleth expected. He had only just wanted her to leave an hour ago, but he already missed her dearly. His longing to have her back in Fhirdiad made it difficult to focus on his work, but he needed to be strong; they would be married shortly and all would be well. 

She hadn't expected the lustful turn the second half of the letter took. Byleth dropped the first page of the letter beside the tub, a bit shocked that the same man who shook like a leaf from nerves the first time he touched her in any intimate capacity was now recalling their nights' activities and how he would use their memory to warm his bed until he could have her in the flesh again. He talked more, and in more detail, causing heat to rise to Byleth's face despite being alone and her fingers to drift between her legs.

* * *

The rest of his letters were in a similar vein, recalling his activities throughout the day, and then fantasies about how the two of them would spend their nights once they reunited. Byleth did her fair share of encouraging this from him in her responses, supplying her own fantasies, or asking him to elaborate on his. It made receiving the mail that much more thrilling. Seeing the royal seal on one of her letters usually meant she would be taking the letter up to her chambers to read privately.

As slow as the weeks seemed to drag, Byleth still felt blindsided by how fast her departure for Fhirdiad had come. She only brought a few sets of travel clothes this time; Dimitri had assured her in one of his letters that her dresses had been completed and left in the Queen's suites for her, taking special care to mention that he did not look at the wedding dress. There was also another parcel that arrived for her from one of the dressmakers, but he had assumed it was an accessory for their wedding day and wished to be surprised, so he left it wrapped and in her suites for her to open later. 

Unlike the last time, Dimitri had sent a small battalion of knights to escort her. Seteth had suggested bringing some of the Knights of Seiros with as well for added protection ("You are both the Archbishop and Princess Consort, your safety should be taken seriously"). The journey would be uneventful, Byleth knew, yet she still kept her Sword of the Creator close just in case. 

* * *

It took them four days longer than they projected to arrive in Fhirdiad due to weather. 

A particularly chatty guard had told Byleth that His Majesty had been so worried and was coming down to the gates to check for her. He had never seen His Majesty so concerned, he said, to the point where his council had barred him from checking for her himself. 

For a moment, Byleth considered allowing her presence to go unknown. She considered slipping into his chambers without a word and giving him a _real_ surprise. But no, she shouldn't do that. If he was so worried, she feared he wasn't eating properly or getting enough sleep. Letting him know she had arrived and safely would grant him a respite, so her fantasies about being a surprise gift on his bed just waiting to be unwrapped would have to be tabled. 

Besides, they had agreed to hold off on joining each other's beds until the wedding night and she wanted to stick to her word. 

Byleth told the guard that word could be sent to his Majesty about her arrival and, after their horses were stabled, made her way to the Queen's suites so she could have a bath and change out of her travel clothes. She had dismissed her attendants for the day, though she _did_ inform both them and Seteth that she would be sleeping in her own bed until the wedding.

The Queen's suites were nicer than the guest suite she stayed in her last visit, more similar to Dimitri's suite, though with a different color scheme and slightly different style of furniture. The suites were adjoined by a common hallway that separated the Royal suites from the rest of the castle, giving the Royal family a bit of privacy from the day to day activities. Her possessions would be brought up later, but she did not dwell for there were dresses waiting for her in the armoire. Byleth didn't bother starting with them, however, she shed her traveling cloak and let it fall to the floor while she made a beeline for the parcel wrapped in burlap on her bed. She untied the twine binding it hastily and tossed it and the burlap aside. 

She pulled the garment out and held it to her chest as she tried to get an idea of what it would look like from what she could glean in her reflection in the standing mirror just beyond. The fabric of the dress--if it could be called that--was sheer, with delicate gold embroidery climbing like vines up the hem that dragged along the floor. The only closures were over the chest and were tailored to make it easy for big, clumsy fingers to undo. The rest of the garment was open.

Byleth smiled to herself and folded it up neatly and tucked it into the armoire; she wouldn't be needing it until her wedding night. Then, she picked out a dress to wear and had her bath.

There was a forceful knock at the door while Byleth sat at the vanity and combed her hair. Byleth paused, concerned at what would result in such a brash gesture when a second, more delicate knock sounded. She set the comb down, her hair still half tangled and wet, and went to answer it. 

Before Byleth had a chance to open the door properly and address whoever was knocking, she felt a weight that was unmistakably Dimitri's crash against her while his arms snaked around her. She met him similarly, arms cinching tight so that her hands were resting on the backs of his shoulders.

"I missed you." She said, words muffled into his chest. His warmth on her was like a balm for her soul.

Dimitri hummed in agreement, his grip on her momentarily becoming unbearably tight before he realized what he was doing and loosened up. "I was _so_ worried. When you weren't here on time, I--"

He couldn't bring himself to elaborate. 

"We were waylaid. Snow. Made camp for two days while we waited for the storm to clear."

"I'm happy you're here now, Beloved."

Dimitri had become fond of the moniker over their correspondence through letters, often calling her that when he was waxing poetic about how much he missed her and how his body yearned for her. She was still adjusting to the sound of it, but it was growing on her.

"I'm happy too." 

Byleth didn't think he would ever let her go, so it came as a surprise when he was the one who pulled himself off her. She could see him quite clearly now, the five o'clock shadow that he must have not bothered to shave the last couple days, his tired eye; it made her feel guilty for worrying him as she had. 

"When I was informed that you had arrived, I went down to the kitchens and asked them to prepare your favorite meal for tonight." He smiled boyishly. 

"We're eating fish tonight, then."

Dimitri chuckled a bit. "Yes. But first, I should introduce you to my advisor, Boris."

"We met, at your coronation." Her tone was flat.

"Oh! You have? Well, there are some things about the wedding that need discussing."

Byleth tensed and bit her tongue. "Let me finish combing my hair first."

Dimitri joined her while she finished with her hair. He chatted idly, asking if the dresses were to her liking. He would have the dressmaker who made her wedding dress summoned to the castle in the morning to make any last-minute alterations as needed. When she finished, he led her out of the room with his hand pressed to the small of her back and towards Boris' office.

They didn't talk, more from Byleth's inability to form words than from lack of want. Her first encounter with Boris had not been a pleasant one, and she was hoping to avoid a repeat. She hadn't wanted to bring it up to Dimitri; he was in such good spirits with her return and she wanted to avoid souring that.

Boris was at his desk when Byleth and Dimitri entered. He was shuffling around some papers, nearly knocking over his bottle of ink with the hem of his sleeve, which he managed to catch in his willowy hands and right it before any of it spilled. He sighed audibly and went to resume his work, but noticed the pair standing in the doorway and elected not to.

"Oh, Your Majesty, I did not see you enter. And Lady Byleth, always a pleasure."

He rose to bow courteously at them both. Dimitri reciprocated, which meant Byleth was to do the same. She offered an awkward curtsey. 

"I apologize for the interruption, Boris, but there were some things I wished the three of us to go over prior to the wedding in three days."

"Of course. Lady Byleth and I spoke a bit at your coronation, but it was not as detailed as needed."

Dimitri nodded and gestured for the other chair in the office to Byleth. "Please, have a seat. You must be exhausted from travel."

She had wanted to refuse; if both of them were going to be standing, she felt she should have as well. Still, Dimitri was right. Travel had made her tired and she would have done well to sit. So, she took up the offer. Dimitri rested his hand on the back of her chair. 

Boris sat as well, smoothing over his tunic as he did. His hands folded in front of him, on the desk. "Because you have never attended a Royal wedding, Lady Byleth, I felt it pertinent to give you an outline of sorts to guide you through the procession on your wedding day."

He explained the whole itinerary. The wedding itself would begin late morning and would be a proper Church of Seiros ceremony, which, through Byleth's education in becoming the Archbishop, she knew meant it would be long. After the wedding, she would return to the Queen's Suites to freshen up prior to joining the feast. They would be treated to a seven-course meal, with performances from songstresses from the Royal Opera house, musicians, and actors between each course. There would be dancing between the third and fourth courses, in which she and Dimitri would lead their guests through a dance. The rest of the courses would continue, and once the meal commenced, the two of them would be expected to retire to the King's Suites to consummate the marriage.

"Lady Byleth, I must ask, how long have you arranged to stay in Fhirdiad after the wedding?"

Byleth folded her hands into each other. "A month. Dimitri and I had agreed on a month, and then he will accompany me back to Garreg Mach and would stay a week there with me before returning."

"Good. That should be enough time to do your duty as His Majesty's wife."

"My _duty_ as his wife?" She did her best to keep the sharpness out of her tone. It must have been a poor attempt, given Dimitri's hand sliding onto her shoulder and giving it a squeeze. 

"You will be expected to give His Majesty an heir."

* * *

Byleth returned to her suites without Dimitri. She made a quick excuse about being tired and wanting to rest a bit prior to dinner. He gave her a kiss to her temple and led her to her room, promising to retrieve her when it was time to head down to eat. 

She had thought about it then, while Dimitri was escorting her back to her suites, telling him about how Boris' words earlier and at the coronation had upset her. Byleth wasn't looking for retaliation of any sort, only to be treated as a person, not Dimitri's possession whose only purpose was to give Dimitri babies. It reminded her all too much of the situation with Rhea for comfort, which only served to remind her that this wasn't a problem she could Divine Pulse away.

After shutting the door behind her, Byleth laid down on the bed, staring up at the canopy above her. Her hand cinched over her stomach anxiously. Lying there, she could feel the tension in her shoulders and her jaw. How long had she been carrying that? The whole way to Fhirdiad? Or, was it more recent?

She rolled over onto her side, pushing thoughts about earlier from her mind and choosing to indulge in fantasies regarding her future with Dimitri. Byleth imagined them as parents, being woken up by little ones as soon as the sun had risen. She imagined riding with one child tucked into her furs, with Dimitri having the other hiding within his. She imagined Dimitri telling them bedtime stories, and kissing away minor scrapes they acquired through doing the typical things children do, and inviting the children to share their marital bed when they had a nightmare and wanted to be consoled by their parents, and seeing their chubby little faces smiling at her while they sat on the pews in Garreg Mach's cathedral as she performed a sermon. She imagined her and Dimitri working together as a united front to make Fodlan a place worthy of those eventual children. 

Things she wished she had gotten to have with her mother and Jeralt.

It hadn't been her intention to fall asleep, but images of their happy family lulled her into it.

* * *

When she awoke, it was to the fluttering of skin on her cheeks, a hand caressing her chin. Kisses on her nose and forehead.

"It's time to wake up, Beloved."

Byleth groaned and opened her eyes.

Dimitri was beside her in the bed, close enough that she could feel the heat of his body against her. He had shaved since she last saw him; she ran a sleepy hand down his cheek to confirm. "It's time to eat?" She asked.

"Not quite yet. I wanted to have a private moment with you before we ate."

"I thought you wanted to abstain from _private moments_ until the wedding." Byleth teased.

Dimitri's face momentarily broke into a smile. Then, it shifted back to a more serious expression, "You seemed upset when we met with Boris earlier. Is something the matter?"

Byleth rolled over, knowing that the question wouldn't go away if she pretended like he didn't pose it, but still committed to acting as though it would. 

"If you don't wish to speak about it, I understand and respect your wishes."

She frowned to herself and rolled back over to face him. "Dimitri, maybe I'm reading into this, or being unreasonable, but I got the impression that some people in your court view me more as a possession whose purpose is for you to take your pleasure from and have your babies rather than your wife."

Dimitri didn't say anything, though, from how thin his mouth was set and the serious expression, he was giving her the space to air her grievances before speaking. 

"I know you will treat me as your equal, but I can't live a life being seen as your possession that's just around to provide you little heirs. Especially...especially--"

"Go ahead."

"Especially when I'm not even sure I'll last through childbirth."

"You had mentioned that your mother died in childbirth before."

She nodded and took a moment to consider what she wanted to say next; coming across as the angry wife would only exacerbate things. "Dimitri, I'm terrified of dying and leaving you a widower to raise our child. And...and I guess in a way, having people bring up my _duties_ only dredges up those fears because I'm left assuming that others feel my life is expendable as long as I give you an heir."

“I do not wish to marry you for an heir, I wish to marry you because I love you; having a child is optional.” Dimitri held her close in a comforting gesture. It didn't do much to quell her fears and apprehensions, but she appreciated it nonetheless. 

"Beloved, I will speak with my council after dinner and explain what you just told me. You are my equal in every sense, and I wouldn't want anyone making you feel any less than that."

Byleth frowned, "You don't think it will cause problems?"

"Upsetting my wife causes far more problems," he pecked her temple, "they will understand.”

* * *

Like Dimitri promised, dinner was a nice smoked fish served with some winter root vegetables and onion gratin soup, which she knew to be his favorite. Felix and Annette had been in Fhirdiad for half a week already and chose to dine with them at the castle as opposed to eating with her mother, who lived in the city following the war. Talk was lively, about plans for the wedding in three days, plans for their own wedding, how Dedue and Ashe were signing the lease on a restaurant in the heart of the city already and it was looking promising. It reminded Byleth of how things changed, and how, sometimes, a change could be good. 

After dinner, Dimitri showed himself out, giving Byleth a knowing look that promised he would speak with his council later before inviting Felix to his study to discuss politics, likely the rebuilding of Fraldarius territories and how the crown planned on lending its assistance in the matter. 

Once they were gone, Byleth invited Annette to the Queen’s suites for after-dinner tea and so she could see the wedding dress before the big day.

They walked, arms linked, up to Byleth’s chambers, which felt like another reminder of how things had changed over the years. They were not professor and student, or Commander and archmage of the royal army. Now, they were two friends, on their way for tea and biscuits.

Byleth ushered Annette into the room first. She was pleasantly surprised to find that a servant had already lit a fire in the hearth and brought the tea up, which was sitting on a polished silver tray with some biscuits. Annette sat and poured them both a cup while she pulled the dress from the armoire to show her. 

“Oh, Professor! That’s lovely,” she clasped her hands together, “you’ll have to give me the name of the dressmaker!”

“I’m arranging for a final fitting tomorrow if you aren’t busy and would like to come.”

“I wouldn’t miss it! Hilda just arrived in Fhirdiad yesterday. Would you like me to see if she wants to join us? We can all take lunch together. It’s just too bad that Mercie won’t be here until tomorrow evening.”

After making a show of holding the dress up so that Annette could appreciate it, she delicately hung it back up and closed the doors. “I had written to her about making my veil about a month ago and had the dressmaker send her a bolt of the lace used on the dress. She wanted to meet up to give me the final product, so that would be great.”

Byleth sat down and grabbed for her cup. The porcelain was warm to the touch, so she blew it a little before raising it to her lips. Before she had a chance to take her first sip, there was a knocking at the door, which garnered a confused look from Annette. 

“I’ll only be a moment.”

She set her teacup down and went to answer it.

Boris stood on the other side of the door, wringing his hands together. “I apologize for bothering you, Lady Byleth, but would it be possible for me to have a word with you,” he looked into her room, “privately?”

Byleth looked to Annette, then back at Boris, “I must step away for a moment, Annette. Please, make yourself comfortable.”

Silently, Byleth followed a pace behind Boris. She was nervous to walk shoulder to shoulder, given she knew that this was absolutely about her conversation with Dimitri. Her stomach felt like a leaden rock, so she was grateful for even the slight bit of distance between them. 

Even so, the air between them was palpable. She could feel it coming off Boris, radiating from her. It sent a shiver down her spine.

He led her to a long hallway with paintings of each of the kings who had once called the castle home hanging on the walls. They stopped before one that she had to assume was Lambert, given the strong resemblance that Dimitri bore to him. There were some differences, a slimmer nose, a more square jawline, but otherwise, it could have almost been passed as a painting of Dimitri.

“His Majesty and I had a discussion,” he swallowed hard as if to buy himself time, “I should apologize, Lady Byleth. I hadn’t considered how my words might have been perceived and how they may have offended you.”

“I appreciate that.” She did, but she still kept a wide berth out of discomfort.

“You have a very esteemed position as Archbishop, it had never been my intent to imply that you would be treated as anything less than that, or as a possession of His Majesty’s. However, given you had that impression, I must...ah...think over my words a bit more carefully henceforth.” 

Byleth nodded. “Thank you. I’m glad we were able to clear the air before the wedding.”

“As am I. We are stronger as a united front; squabbling would serve no one. Thank you for listening, and again, I am deeply sorry for how I have spoken to you in the past.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter:
> 
> Sex and a very brief mention of mental health issues.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

For the three days leading up to the wedding, Byleth felt as though she hadn't enough hours to accomplish everything. Last-minute alterations were done to her dress in order to make sure it fit just right for the wedding. Annette and Hilda visited then, with Hilda bringing the veil and other accessories she had made herself for Byleth to choose from. She ended up choosing some silver bangles; there were royal jewels she was to wear for the ceremony, so she didn't need much. 

After that, it was her sampling a mock-up of some of the courses for the ceremony while Dimitri watched on and asked her how the food tasted. The only thing he could really taste was the 40 clove chicken and the potatoes roasted in the drippings, but he enjoyed that greatly. 

They had dance lessons, and meetings with the wedding planners to finalize seating and floral arrangements, and to sit in for auditions with the minstrels who sought to perform at the Royal Wedding. In addition, Dimitri still had his work as King to attend to, and Byleth had hers. So, sometimes she felt as though she was being dragged off in two separate directions to attend to everything that required her. 

Sleep did come easily in those three days, however, and that was the blessing of it all. She was so tired by the time she shuffled into her quarters that insomnia didn't have a chance to show itself. Byleth still had nightmares, and when she woke up drenched in a cold sweat and alone, it made her sad that Dimitri was not there to seek consolation in. Still, she managed to fall back asleep eventually. 

The only night that she hadn't slept well was the night before the wedding. She had spent most of the night tossing and turning, going over the plans for the wedding in her head, wanting nothing more than to climb into bed with Dimitri, even if it was just to talk until sunrise. 

But, they had agreed to not seeing each other until they stood at the altar, so she stayed in her own bed. 

About an hour past sunrise, Byleth's attendants and several other servants who she recognized by face, but whose names she regretfully could not remember filed into her chambers to prepare her. A bath was drawn for her, with rosewater and scented salts for fragrance. They scrubbed her skin, washed her hair, and, when she was done, helped with applying lotions to her hair and skin.

She ate the breakfast that was brought up to her, and then she finished with getting ready for the wedding. 

The attendants chatted happily the entire time, mostly with each other about everything and nothing. But sometimes, they would direct comments at her, about how lovely her makeup looked, how the dress was becoming on her and how His Majesty would love the sight of her in it. Questions about whether or not she was nervous to be wed shortly. 

Almost everyone she had spoken with in the days leading up to the wedding had asked her if she was nervous to walk down the aisle and marry Dimitri. It was a question she hadn't paid much mind to until she had been asked it more times than she cared to count. 

In a way, she supposed she was nervous, but in the way one would be nervous for something they wanted. And, that was what she told them. 

Once she was dressed and all made up, a small group of three knights came to her chambers to escort her down to the castle cathedral. 

They made her wait outside while one went in to check if they were ready for her. Butterflies rose up in her stomach while she stood there with the other two guards flanking her, waiting for the go-ahead to open the door and begin the ceremony.

Then, the sound of organ music and a choir. It was time.

Byleth walked down the aisle, mindful of her steps so that she didn't trip over the skirt of her dress or seem as though she was rushing. She noticed some recognizable faces as she continued her procession, the former Blue Lions, the other instructors, but it wasn't enough for her to cling to while her excitement was building to see her fiance--no, husband.

She looked up from her feet, confident enough that she wasn't going to trample the hem to do so. Then, she saw Dimitri, resplendent in his formalwear with his hair tied back in a half ponytail. He was smiling, and when their eyes locked, she could see the sheen of happy tears streaming down his face. Byleth bit her lip to prevent her own from spilling, but it did nothing to stop them. 

Dimitri offered his hand to help her to the dais, and it began. 

Byleth hadn't known how long the ceremony went on, but it was a lot of the priest reciting canticles from the holy texts about loyalty and the bonds of matrimony with either Dimitri, Byleth, or both of them replying with their own scripted verses. There was more singing from the choir, more verses and them responding with their appropriate lines. 

None of it mattered to Byleth, none except Dimitri, his hands in hers, and that this was  _ really _ happening. The butterflies were fluttering around even more strongly. 

Everything sort of bled into each other, the words, the rituals, the choir, all except the part with rings and the man and wife. The kiss that followed was a bit awkward, given the audience, but she savored the sweetness of it nonetheless. 

The rest was a blur of them walking arm in arm back down the aisle while the trumpeters blared, announcing King and Queen Blaiddyd. When they stepped out into the cathedral vestibule so that they may meet the public outside, the knights joined them once more and led them out into the courtyard. 

Byleth was blinded by the afternoon sun momentarily; she raised her hand up to block the light streaming into her eyes. When she adjusted, she saw the crowd of people before her, throwing birdseed and paper confetti onto them to bless the marriage. Dimitri's hand tightened around hers. Byleth looked to him and saw he was still crying, but his smile had broadened when he looked down at her. She had never known happiness like this, and he evidently hadn't either.

At the knights' urging, the crowd parted, giving the couple a path through to the castle proper.

* * *

Everything the wedding planners had told Byleth about the wedding did not prepare her for the opulence of it all. She had been good and didn't sneak down to the formal dining hall to check how preparations were going, though she tried to tempt Dimitri into going with her to do just that one night over dinner. But, she had behaved, so when she saw the banners with the Blaiddyd coat of arms,  _ her _ coat of arms, accompanied with streamers, and flowers of blue and white, and flickering little candles on every surface, she was surprised. 

Horns announced hers and Dimitri's entry once more, and the pair were led to their places at the long table by a procession of guards. 

They sat hand in hand throughout the meal. Dimitri hadn't stopped smiling or stealing glances at her. She had been guilty of the same, which was mentioned by several guests who had joined their table briefly to wish the couple a happy life. With each course, she would describe the dish to him, the flavor profiles present, just so he could take part in some small way. That said, the menu had been planned with his unique circumstances in mind, and everything was seasoned heavily so that he could at least get a hint of flavor. His favorite was still the 40 clove chicken, which was brought out to him with extra roasted cloves of garlic for him. Dimitri ate the garlic just as he would have the chicken and the potatoes it was served with, to which Byleth commented  _ you'll smell like garlic for tonight _ with a smile to let him know she was only teasing. 

Between the fifth and sixth courses, a troupe of actors performed a dramatic retelling of their first meeting, when she and Jeralt had rescued the three of them from bandits. Their rendition was far more romantic than she recalled of that day, with the actor playing Dimitri waxing poetic in a soliloquy to the audience about Byleth's beauty, and how after only a fleeting few moments of knowing her, she had already claimed his heart. 

There was one point where the actor playing Dimitri was holding the actor playing herself tightly against him, promising to protect her from the onslaught of bandits at the detriment of his own safety where Dimitri looked to her with a raised brow to indicate that he found the spectacle to be wildly inaccurate as well. Byleth responded by discreetly slipping her hand to his upper thigh and giving it a squeeze. 

He placed his hand atop hers. 

* * *

After the last course was served and both she and Dimitri had their fill, horns blared again, announcing that it was time for the King and Queen to retire to his chambers to consummate the marriage while the guests were invited into the ballroom for more dancing and merriment. Dimitri had taken her hand and led her out, where they were soon joined by some guards who would escort them to the royal suites. 

"I would like to freshen up a bit before you join me in my chambers." Said Dimitri, which she took to be in response to her comment about his garlic breath from earlier.

"I have my own things I wish to do as well." Her mind flitted to the garment she had made special for the wedding night. 

The plan had been discussed among her and her attendants that morning. As much as she wanted Dimitri to tear away all the little buttons on her wedding dress, it was a special garment to commemorate their happiest day together and she didn't want it ruined. She would need assistance in undressing before she retired to his suites for the night. 

She hadn't known it was the tradition among the nobility to have the bride's attendants undress her and then help her into a nightgown prior to joining the groom in the bed-chamber until she suggested it to them, which made the whole idea a bit more convenient.

They were waiting for her when Byleth stepped in. The youngest was holding a linen nightgown, having not been informed of the special garment she had made. After thanking them for leaving the festivities, she walked over to the drawer she had it kept in and pulled it out.

"I will be wearing this to His Majesty's bed. Perhaps with a dressing gown over it to give him a real surprise."

* * *

Byleth was not accompanied to Dimitri's suites, though there were guards stationed outside both hers and his bed-chamber doors when she slipped in. Three of the four kept their looks cool and stoic, though one of the ones stationed outside Dimitri's door began to blush when she approached, most likely from the looming embarrassment of overhearing the King and Queen's activities that night. 

Dimitri was waiting for her when she stepped in. He was pacing anxiously at the foot of his bed, which she chose not to comment on. He had shed most of his regalia, now down to a button-up shirt he must have been wearing under the formal jacket and his trousers.

When the door shut behind her, he was on her, wrapping his powerful arms around her and capturing her lips with his. His kisses started off innocently enough, but he soon couldn't help himself from roaming her body with his hands.

Byleth responded with equal fervor by nipping his bottom lip when they parted for breath and digging her fingertips into his chest through the fabric of his shirt.

His arms cinched a little tighter, not enough for pain, but enough to keep her flush against him while he maneuvered them into the bed. Byleth gasped from the shock of the fall into the bed; she hadn't been expecting Dimitri to get them there so quickly. 

But, she also supposed he was waiting for this day since she told him she wanted to marry him. 

He was under her now, some of his hair coming loose from the ribbon that had been tying it back. Byleth kissed him again. On his lips, down to his chin. His neck. She began undoing the buttons of his shirt and slipped her hands inside to play with one of his nipples. Dimitri's breath hitched, but his gaze was fixed on her eyes. Whenever he could, he would claim her lips again, though he seemed pretty content with letting her caress him as she was. 

Byleth sat up, straddling his waist. Dimitri's hands rested on her hips. His thumbs made gentle patterns into the fabric of her dressing gown. 

Her hands drifted down to the sash that kept it tied and kept her secret concealed from him. She smiled mischievously at the thought. 

"I have a surprise for you."

Dimitri met her smile with one of his own. "A surprise? Truly today has already been the best of my life, a surprise would be unnecessary."

Byleth didn't break eye contact as she undid the sash and let the dressing gown pool between them. 

At that moment where it fell away and he was greeted with her body concealed in gauzy, barely-there fabric, Byleth could see the shift in him from a man happy to have his wife in his arms to a man so sexually frustrated that she didn't think it a stretch of the imagination that he might tear away the fabric like wrapping on a present.

He had seen her naked, but she supposed there was something far more thrilling about her all done up in a garment that was only for him to see. 

Dimitri ran his hands up her stomach and stopped just before reaching her breasts. They were trembling a bit. Nerves. 

"May I touch you?"

Byleth wrapped her hands around his wrists and guided him to his goal. "You may."

Despite it being hardly their first time together, Dimitri still explored her in a way reminiscent of their first. He was checking her with each touch, each time the side of his thumb grazed one of her nipples through the fabric or his fingers kneaded her flesh. In a way, it made him that much more charming and attractive to her, the fact that he would always be nervous and excited to see her--his wife--naked and wanting for him. 

And she did want him. Wanted to taste the sweat of his skin and feel his mouth, and hands, and cock on her, in her. She had wanted nothing in life more powerfully than she wanted Dimitri at that moment. To be consumed by the love between them and made anew.

Dimitri's mouth enveloped one of her nipples through the fabric. Byleth gasped when he flicked his tongue over it and suckled on her greedily. That only lasted a moment, for he pried his mouth free of her and began undoing the closures with ease. Later, she would write the dressmaker to inform him that they were a big success on the wedding night. 

He resumed suckling on her with renewed vigor. Dimitri slid a practiced finger into her, then two. No guidance was needed this time; Dimitri knew exactly what to do, how she liked it. 

She moaned into her sealed lips.

Goddess, he was getting  _ so _ good. 

Byleth held the back of his head. Partially to keep him against her, but mostly for stability. She could spend the night like this, with his diligent fingers drilling into her and his tongue lapping at her nipple. 

"Oh…Dimitri…"

And as much as she knew her husband would be more than happy to serve her in that way, she had other ideas of how she wanted their wedding night to go.

"Let's get you undressed."

With Byleth's help, Dimitri completely shed his clothing. They stole kisses after each button, each bit of clothing discarded. Every time their eyes locked. Four Saints, she loved this man, loved him so completely that no words she could ever say would describe it. 

When he was undressed, she took him into her mouth. Dimitri writhed and gasped, choking out her name when her tongue ran across his slit. Byleth smiled when he fumbled over the syllables; she liked when she made him feel so good he lost his words.

She continued, giving him a taste of exactly how he liked it, and then pulled back. Dimitri was already so hard, she suspected he had been by the sixth course. Even so, she continued to play, sucking on the head of his cock and licking his shaft and then, when he was quivering and clutching for the bedspread, she dialed it back and nibbled on his thigh or kissed his stomach.

"By...loved…"

"Byloved?" She stared up at him, the head of his cock balanced on her bottom lip.

Dimitri's face went red. 

"It feels so good that you forgot what you meant to say?"

He laughed awkwardly. "Something like that," one of his hands found her cheek, "come here, Beloved."

When Byleth was straddling Dimitri once more, he drew her in for a desperate kiss. He groaned her name into her mouth. When they parted, his perfect eye met hers. "I want to make love with you."

Byleth kissed him once more, savoring his taste. Then, she positioned herself over him. Dimitri guided himself in while she lowered onto him. 

She found her rhythm, rolling her hips. Rising, lowering. Stopping to look at his beautiful face. Fuck, she was lucky. So lucky…

...So...fuck.

He was thrusting his hips, arching into her with each movement. Eyes trained on her and only her. He looked so handsome like that, watching her, watching her take her pleasure from his body. 

"Fuck…"

Byleth grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the bed over his head. Somehow, their fingers became intertwined and she could feel the cool metal of his wedding band. He was hitting a little harder, a little deeper. Her lips parted, moans growing more audible. 

"Dimi...I…"

"I...I love you…"

"I love...ah...you too…"

Byleth smothered her moans in a needy kiss.

They switched positions, still lying on the bed, but with Dimitri on top. He pressed his forehead to hers, thrusting deeper, harder, kissing her each time their lips were close. Memories of that first kiss in her old room at Garreg Mach stirred in her mind. 

She tightened her thighs around him.

_ Trembling lips, trembling hands, the sweetness of his lips on hers and the promise of more to come. The secret of it concealed in the candlelight after he had brought her back to her quarters and nursed her back to health.  _

He kissed her again.

_ Rain pelting them both while he cries and she holds him, promising to be there for him. Promising to be there forever. _

Byleth's fingernails raked against his back. 

_ Late night dinners when they were both so burdened with work that they couldn't pry themselves away. Choosing to eat in the war room together. _

He wrapped his arms behind her neck and drew her in against him.

_ Dimitri scolding her when she stayed up too late, or tried a risky maneuver on the battlefield, or didn't consider her needs. Pleas that she takes better care of herself because she made him worry _ .

Byleth was so close, practically bursting at the seams.

_ Rides on horseback at dawn through the countryside together. Stealing looks at each other through the fog. _

Dimitri! I...I…"

_ Having children, watching them grow up, growing old together. A lifetime of love and happiness. _

Her orgasm came, white-hot in its intensity. Byleth's entire body rocked. Her legs trembled around Dimitri, toes curled. She moaned his name with such joy and so loud that the guards posted outside his door must have heard her. Byleth didn't care who heard.

"I'm close."

"Inside. Finish...finish inside…"

* * *

Following the wedding, the four weeks in Fhirdiad were the happiest Byleth knew.

Each morning, she and Dimitri rode through the mountains at dawn to take in the sunrise together. She had never seen the mountains overlooking the capital like this, and Dimitri was determined to take her to his favorite spots. He said something along the lines of showing her a beauty that was second only to one, of which he meant  _ her.  _

They took all their meals together and spent every moment they could together, whether it was curled up together in the library on a rainy day while he read her his favorite books from boyhood, or heading down to the training grounds to spar for old times' sake. 

Dimitri brought painters in during those four weeks. He wanted to fill the castle with her, he said, to have her always there, even when her seat at Garreg Mach beckoned. Byleth sat for so many artists, which she grew weary of but said nothing about because the happiness on Dimitri's face when he saw the finished painting and had already picked out where he wanted to hang it was rewarding enough. 

As blissful as they were in marriage, work still called them on occasion. Boris and Seteth did what they could to resolve issues on their own to give the happy couple as much time together as they desired, but there were some matters that couldn't be handled by Dimitri's council or Byleth's right hand. 

To compensate, Byleth devised her own system of claiming Dimitri's attention once again when his meetings with his council were going on hours and she wanted for her husband in a way that couldn't wait. 

"I must discuss matters of the Church with His Majesty." 

It was a simple enough request, one that she posed when she walked into the war room of the castle and saw them rehashing old battle strategies that she knew they had gone over the previous day. Boris did not attempt to extend his stay, saying that if they needed his input, he would be in his office, which was ideal.

Especially as the matter of the church that needed to be discussed was how the Archbishop desired her husband.

They ended up breaking the table in the war room that the first day she used those words. 

Dimitri was positively ravenous when she posed her suggestion, causing him to lose himself just a touch and go harder than he had planned. He felt  _ amazing _ , but the table, while finely made, just wasn't strong enough to maintain the weight of both of them and the force of his thrusts. 

Dimitri was mortified.

Later, Byleth would tell the story as a joke, about the time her husband had broken a table because he was  _ so  _ strong and wanted her  _ so  _ bad. She even had the bruises from her fall (and Dimitri's subsequent fall on top of her) to show. 

* * *

It had been a cold night halfway through her stay in Fhirdiad, and neither Dimitri nor Byleth could sleep. They had both been plagued with war memories, and after a certain point, lying in bed was doing more harm to the condition than good. So, they wrapped themselves in furs and decided to stroll the castle grounds. 

Their walk was initially a silent one, the only contact between them was their interwoven hands. Byleth was content with that. There was a lifetime ahead of them to fill with a conversation, she didn't need to exhaust herself with words in only the first month. 

Dimitri stopped them at a night-blooming flower whose name escaped Byleth. He observed it for a time, then he plucked one and tucked it behind her ear. 

"Are you happy, Beloved?" 

Byleth pulled her furs closer. "I am, though if someone had told me when we first met that we would end up married, I would have called them a liar."

"Why is that?" His tone suggested that he knew what she was going to say, he only wanted to hear it from her mouth. 

"Princes don't marry mercenaries." It was a simple answer to a more complicated question that she didn't feel like answering at the moment. 

"Lucky for me, you are not a mercenary. Not anymore." Dimitri beamed. 

"And for me that you are not a prince. Not anymore."

Byleth fell into his arms. His warmth spread across her pleasantly, making her feel safe. Dimitri wrapped his furs and cloak around her, enveloping her in further warmth and his scent. She breathed it in, becoming lost in him. 

"Tell me, Dimitri, are  _ you _ happy?" 

She looked up at him, watching as he searched his mind for an answer to give. 

"I still struggle with believing I am deserving of such things, but yes. I am happy, happier than I could have ever imagined being thanks to you."

Then, he kissed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the second to last chapter of If You Feel Better, and I wanted to take a moment to thank everyone for reading. It means a lot to me to see your comments and get those kudos.
> 
> I have some other projects in the works that I'm excited about, so if you're interested in more from me, keep an eye out for those!
> 
> [I have a Twitter where I post a lot of 3H stuff and fic updates.](https://www.twitter.com/queenofthisdick)


	12. Epilogue

Seteth sat at his desk across from Byleth. Silently, he shuffled through some documents, organizing them and reorganizing them meticulously until he was sure he had everything. Their meetings had been a lot like this since being made Archbishop. Seteth would delegate tasks to her, ask if she needed more instruction on some, less on others if she could handle them by herself or would rather pass the duty onto someone else. He was doing his best to make the transition seamless for her and keep the church running as before, and she appreciated him for that.

"I believe we have everything prepared for tomorrow, Lady Byleth."

She nodded.

Mercedes' and Sylvain's wedding day had approached quicker than she would have liked. Byleth was happy to have the ceremony and reception at Garreg Mach, and her excitement for them was real. Even so, as soon as she returned from her own honeymoon, she found herself tasked with helping make preparations for that as well as running the day to day functions of the church and Academy. Seteth had been a wonderful help, of course, but she sometimes wished she had an extra set of hands or more hours in the day to get everything done. 

"I know you will not want to do much in the way of work once His Majesty arrives, so I prepared these documents for you to go over. I only need your approval on these, so please, have a look over these this afternoon."

"Of course. Thank you, Seteth."

Seteth handed over the documents, which Byleth quickly set down in her lap. 

"And please, I know you have been feeling under the weather as of recent, so do not hesitate to ask for assistance if you do not feel up to a task."

"I will. Thank you."

Byleth took her papers and headed out of the office. 

She made it about halfway to the stairs leading up to her chambers when a powerful wave of nausea hit. Byleth propped herself against one of the stone walls, hoping it would subside. Sometimes, it would curb in a matter of moments. But other times, she would find herself doubled over and out for the remainder of the day. Just three days ago, she had been sick all over the cathedral floor during a sermon. The monks were so nice about it, offering to clean it up while one escorted her back to her chambers and brought her ginger tea to help settle her stomach, but she still felt bad for it.

At the recollection of ginger tea, Byleth thought of Manuela. So, she shambled over to the infirmary.

* * *

"Hello, Dear, I'll only be a moment." She said while she finished patching up a knight who had become injured during a training exercise. 

The young man regarded Byleth oddly, though she supposed it was uncommon to find the Archbishop sitting in the infirmary. She hadn't known this particular knight as well as she knew some of the others, so there wasn't that sense of familiarity to cut into the tenseness. Byleth awkwardly took a seat at Manuela's desk and waited.

Manuela finished with taking care of the injury and sent the knight on his way.

"I don't want to see you back here, unless it's for a drink," she said with a wink before turning to Byleth, "ginger tea, again?"

Byleth nodded. "The nausea has been particularly bad this week."

Manuela got to work preparing some tea for her and Byleth to share while she hummed a merry tune. Occasionally, she would set things in front of Byleth, a jar of honey, her cup, saucer, spoon, and some tea biscuits she had hidden away in a cabinet. 

"We haven't had much time to talk like we did in the old days," Manuela said, setting the pot of steeping ginger between them while she prepared her own cup with honey, "how is married life, Dear?"

"Wonderful, when we are together. But these two months apart have been trying. I miss him more every day and the letters don't make me want him here with me any less."

Manuela nodded. She poured some of the ginger tea into Byleth's cup, and then her own. 

"You should tell that husband of yours to join you in Garreg Mach. He should be here to attend to you, especially with your  _ condition _ ."

Byleth sipped her tea. "We agreed to divide our time between Garreg Mach and Fhirdiad, it just so happens that we're both so new to our respective positions that asking the other to leave at the moment couldn't work. In any case, he'll be arriving by nightfall."

"Good! Though...I suppose you  _ won't  _ be taking any visitors once he arrives." There was a playfulness in her tone that she accompanied with a wink. 

"That is why Seteth wants me to finish my work early today. He said I won't want to do any work once Dimitri arrives."

Manuela nibbled on a biscuit. She gave Byleth a coquettish sort of grin, then sipped her tea. "Who could blame you? I know if it were me, I wouldn't let him leave the bed," She chuckled a little at her joke, "but in all seriousness, we all know you miss him and, as uptight as Seteth can be, he understands that you need time alone with your husband."

Byleth nodded.

* * *

After tea, Byleth had to attend some matters involving opening up Garreg Mach again as an Academy. Hanneman and Manuela had graciously agreed to stay on as professors for a time, but she and Seteth needed to screen and interview to fill the positions left empty due to war or duty. Seteth had done the bulk of the work in screening potential candidates, though he wanted her to meet with his top choices prior to offering the positions. 

Linhardt was Seteth's top suggestion, so he had been invited to speak with them that day. The conversation was less an interview and more checking in on how his life had been proceeding in the last months; Byleth knew when he walked in that she would be offering him the post, and she could tell that Seteth was in agreement. 

With the meeting over, Byleth met with the Knights of Seiros with Sylvain to talk about guard duty for the wedding in the morning. As the groom, it wasn't one of those things Sylvain needed to worry about too much; he had people who could make it happen at his word, but he insisted on being there. He wanted to ensure that his wife to be was adequately safe for their big day. 

He hadn't said anything to denote it, but Byleth could sense his excitement. It was in the way he excitedly said "my wife" at every opportunity. How he would talk about the veil she was hand stitching the lace on, and she even embroidered the jacket he would wear for the wedding, and she picked out the most delicious cake for tomorrow. He was beaming in a way that she hadn't seen on him, and the thought made her happy; after the war, they all deserved something to make them happy like that. 

Then, they decided to take lunch with Mercedes in Byleth's chambers. 

Mercedes went to bring up the meal with help from one of the monks, leaving Byleth and Sylvain alone. 

Byleth busied herself with tidying up the room for Dimitri's arrival; there were people at the monastery who would do those things for her, but she much preferred cleaning up after herself than asking someone to do it for her. Sylvain sat at the table in the adjoining study, door open so they could maintain conversation despite being in separate rooms. 

She finished wiping down the mantelpiece when she heard coughing coming from the study. "Is everything alright?" The rag was abandoned and she headed for the study. 

Sylvain was sitting at her desk, holding a letter, one she recognized as being from Dimitri, given the wax seal. He was still looking down at it, having not registered her presence as he finished off its contents. 

"Reading my letters?" She asked.

He dropped the letter back on the desk and cleared his throat. "Sorry, Professor. I shouldn't be reading your mail, but I saw this one from His Majesty and I couldn't resist," Sylvain laughed a little and rubbed the back of his neck, "I've known him almost his whole life, and I'm only now learning that he's capable of saying these things."

Byleth sat down in one of the chairs at the desk. "Is that a bad thing?" She took the pile of letters from in front of him and organized them in a tidy stack.

"Just surprising."

Mercedes came up with food shortly after. For her and Sylvain, it was the turnip and chicken soup the kitchen was serving. Byleth's lunch was smoked fish, some cheese from the Gloucester region, pickled turnips, sliced apples, vegetable broth, and a chocolate tartlet with preserved strawberries. 

"The cook said this is what you've been eating lately," Mercedes said after thanking the monk who helped her bring the meal up. When Byleth tried to help with the tray, Mercedes gave Byleth a look to discourage her and placed the plates in front of her. 

"I told the staff to bring you up a pot of ginger tea in a little while as well. Manuela says your nausea has been bad lately."

"That's my Mercie," Sylvain said with a smile, "always thinking of others."

* * *

Byleth worked for a few hours, focusing on filling out the paperwork Seteth had prepared for her and turning them in. Then, she got to make sure the church was prepared for the wedding in the morning, meeting with the kitchen staff to ensure that they had everything they needed for the banquet. She needed a break between each activity; nausea returned viciously, causing her to be sick outside the stables on her way back from the marketplace, so she ended up taking Mercedes up on the offer for more ginger tea. 

The warm tea only served to make her realize how exhausted she was, so after double-checking that she finished everything Seteth had asked her to, she laid down for a nap. 

When Byleth woke, it was already dark. She wrestled against her skirts in an attempt to get out of bed; meeting Dimitri down by the gates had been her plan and she feared she was running late. Once on her feet, she looked around for her furs, only noticing the fire in the hearth when she was wrapped up. 

When the door to the bathroom opened, Byleth instinctively grabbed for the fire poker for defense. Her weapons were all in the weaponry; Seteth didn't think it was becoming of the Archbishop to keep a sword on her. These last couple of months, she had been extra cautious of intruders who might do her harm, so having no weapons on hand never failed to fill her with unease.

She took a step towards the door that led to the staircase, ready to run if need be. 

"Apologies, Beloved. I hadn't meant to wake you."

Dimitri stepped out of the threshold and closed the gap between them with several large strides. His hands tangled in her hair while he showered her in kisses. 

The poker fell from her hand and clattered against the floor.

Byleth wrapped her arms around him but struggled to return the kisses, given her grogginess and resurfacing nausea. 

The kisses stopped, and Dimitri studied her face carefully. Concern was all over his face. "Is everything alright? You're looking pale. Shall I have Manuela brought up?"

Byleth shook her head. "I don't know why they call it morning sickness when it can happen at any time of day."

Dimitri's look of worry went to one of understanding. A smile spread across his face. "Ah, I see," One of his hands drifted to her stomach, "you're making things difficult for your mother, little one." He kissed her again, this time like a heat had been ignited within him. His hands were on her like a man starved for affection. They found her hips, sides, and eventually settling on her breasts.

Pain bloomed, but not from Dimitri being too rough with her. Byleth winced and shrugged away a little, which only served to give Dimitri more cause for concern. She could tell when he chased her gaze and inevitably gave up when she cast her eyes to the ground.

"Is something the matter, Beloved?"

"I know you want to have sex tonight, but I don't feel up to it. Between nausea and my breasts being tender, I don't think I should."

Dimitri's caresses on her ceased briefly then, after a moment, became less desperate and more affectionate. He raked her in for a tighter hug. "I understand. We don't need to do anything you don't feel up to. And, there's always later, if you feel better."

She nodded. 

"Have you eaten yet? I can bring us up something and we can turn in for the night."

Byleth shook her head. "I haven't. I had a big lunch and...ah...ended up losing it all."

Dimitri kissed her temple. "Then I'll go see if the kitchen staff can make you something."

While Dimitri was gone, Byleth changed into her nightgown. She hadn't any idea what time it was. except that the sky had gone dark. Still, she was exhausted, even after her nap. Dinner and some pillow talk before bed sounded lovely.

He returned some time later with a tray of what she assumed to be reheated stew from the night's meal, some crusty bread, pickled vegetables, and a carafe of water. Dimitri made sure she was situated with her food before he sat down with his beside her. 

She asked him about the rebuild, how his trip had went, whatever came to mind while they ate. Dimitri was feeling particularly jovial and was more than happy to give her a reply, even if it had been a subject that they had discussed already in letters. Talking to him, hearing his voice, it was something she missed greatly in the two months they had been apart, so she wanted to keep him talking for as long as possible. 

While they ate, a couple of the monks brought Dimitri's things up to their chambers. He thanked them politely and apologized for the late hour, and they left. 

When he finished eating, Dimitri organized their dirty dishes into a tidy pile and promised to bring them down in the morning, but tonight he was too tired to make another trip to the kitchen. Byleth watched as he dug through his trunks of clothes for something suitable to wear for bed. She had only just noticed that he was still in his travel clothes and felt a pang of guilt rise up in her stomach for needing him to attend to her so urgently that he hadn't a chance to change properly. She had every intention of apologizing, but he began conversation again.

"I wish I could have been there when you found out you were pregnant," He said, shedding his heavy clothes and undoing the buttons on his shirt, "when I read the letter, I was so overwhelmed with joy that I wept in a meeting with some lords while we discussed plans for their territories."

"I cried too. I really wanted to tell you in person, but Manuela thought it was probably best not to spring it on you  _ now _ when I'm close to three months along." Byleth got off the lounge at the foot of the bed and began turning down the covers for sleep.

"I appreciate that. Knowing I would get to be with my wife and child in two months made it easier to get through each day," he tugged his arm through his nightshirt, "I need to thank her for being here for you during this when I couldn't be. 

Byleth slid into her side of the bed. "She may have some choice words for you about  _ not being there for your pregnant wife, _ for your information."

Dimitri paused, his trousers half off. "Was she really angry that I was in Fhirdiad?"

"No. Mostly just teasing. You know Manuela."

Dimitri sighed, relieved, and finished changing.

When he slid into bed next to her, his warmth spread across her. His arms wrapped around her securely in a hug, and he dappled kisses along with her temple, cheek, and jawline. Byleth chased his lips when she could, managing to steal a kiss here or there when possible. 

One of his hands found her stomach again, where he traced circles around her navel. "Have you thought of any names yet?"

"I have."

He perked up. "Oh?"

"Aidan."

"Aidan? I...I like Aidan."

* * *

Byleth stood out on the terrace alone. Sunrise was still a few hours away, and she couldn't sleep. Partially from nausea, but mostly from that old restlessness that came with living her life behind the blade. She pulled her furs a little tighter around her when a particularly chilly breeze blew past. 

One of her hands found her stomach after a particularly unforgiving wave of nausea. "Starting early, Aidan?" 

The syllables felt foreign on her tongue, but she wanted to try it, to see how she liked it. Byleth liked the sound of it. 

"Do you like that name? Aidan?" Byleth snorted at the thought that she was talking to someone who couldn't answer back.

She turned back to the room, back pressed into the balustrade. Through the firelight, she could just barely make out Dimitri's shape underneath the pile of blankets and smiled. It was a rare peaceful night of sleep for him. No tossing and turning, or jolting awake from a nightmare, fueled with that old anger in his disoriented state. Just sleep.

Byleth stepped into the room and sat on his side of the bed for a time, watching him. She brushed some of his hair back and kissed his ear. 

Dimitri stirred a little and grappled helplessly for a moment in search of her before muttering a half-asleep, "I love you."

Her smile broadened. "I love you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've reached the end of this fic and I just want to thank everyone so much for reading it. I really appreciate you all.
> 
> I'm working on some exciting new projects for 3H, so if you're interested in updates on those, [you can find me on Twitter.](https://www.twitter.com/queenofthisdick)


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